


Adept

by Sensue



Series: Suitcase of Memories [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attraction, Bad Parenting, Brotherhood AU, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Medical, Medical Examination, Narcissism, Post-Divorce, Psychic Abilities, Teenagers, pelvic examination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26002072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sensue/pseuds/Sensue
Summary: "There's nothing wrong with your mother – the doctors let her go home. She's just milking the attention." Harland spoke unkindly – not showing an ounce of compassion for the woman that bore his child. "Stop whining like a bitch!"
Relationships: Dr. Mackland Ames / Esme Madrigal
Series: Suitcase of Memories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887088
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Adept

**Author's Note:**

> This story is, at its core, a medical drama with lots of angst. There is a real-to-life description of a full-body medical exam. It's a part of adult life, so I kept it in. It's only a few paragraphs so feel free to skip ahead if it bothers you. It was also the 1980's where doctors prescribed antibiotics for pretty much anything, so it works out. Additionally, you only had 1 phone in the house, and it was rotary, had a tangled-up cord and it was usually in the kitchen area.

_Richmond, Virginia (June 1981)_

Tendrils of suspicion were hard to ignore, as Dr. Mackland 'Mac' Ames covertly studied the child's body language around his father. His first inclination was that the boy was being abused by the way he flinched when his father came into his personal space. It was hard to confirm that assumption on facial expressions alone – the kid was either thirteen or fourteen years old and that was typically the time frame when teens pulled away from their parents. It was also his first interaction with the family. It wasn't going as well as he originally anticipated.

Pastor Jim Murphy was becoming a great friend to him as well as a Brother within their secret society, so when he was asked to accompany Richard 'Harland' Sawyer for a couple of weeks to train, Mac viewed it as a great opportunity to network. The man worked with a large group of influential hunters and was well-connected. Jim had told him that Sawyer's family were Brotherhood legacy and there were rumors that the man was vying for the position of Knight after Daniel Elkins; apparently, the hunter had even married Maxim Madrigal's daughter to solidify his position. Maxim was the predeceasing Knight of the current and broken Triad. He incorrectly assumed that Harland would be a source of great knowledge – someone who could potentially be another mentor to him while he got acclimated to this new supernatural world that he found himself navigating.

He arrived in Richmond, Virginia on a red-eye flight from JFK. Thankfully, the flight itself was only about an hour and a half, landing in Richmond International Airport without a hitch. Mac had been seated in First Class and had brought only a carry-on backpack and his never-leave-home-without-it black medical bag allowing him to disembark quickly to find Sawyer near the baggage claim where they'd arranged to meet. It was easy to find him even without a sign – the man was exactly how Jim had described him. He had the full 'fluffy' blonde hair that was a popular men's look, smirked quite often, and wore a high-end tailored suit; it was as if Harland had been reproduced from a real-estate agent's billboard.

Mac put his black bag on the floor by his feet to free up a hand to the fellow hunter, "Hello. You must be Mr. Sawyer."

Harland stepped towards him and gave him a thousand-dollar-smile, "And you must be Dr. Ames." His handshake was firm. Mac got the feeling that he was being judged as the man scanned him up and down. Mac was wearing a simple outfit for his midnight flight: white button-down shirt and black slacks. He must have been approved when Harland motioned to a boy that was sitting on a bench by the entrance to approach them. The kid had slightly darker blonde hair and softer, younger features, but it was evident that he was Harland's son. "Dr. Ames, this is my son, Joshua." Joshua shook the doctor's hand, then looked away, turning his body away from his father. He stepped towards the exit without speaking, looking at the ground in front of him. His expression was melancholy; eyes bleak and shoulders hunched down with his arms wrapped tightly around his body as if he were protecting himself.

The face of disgust that Sawyer shot his son was oddly disproportionate to the child's slight. It made Mac feel uncomfortable and unsure of the family dynamic that he'd walked into. "Dr. Ames, I apologize for my son. His mother kept him up all night for a couple of days and, _now_ , he's in a snit."

"That's quite alright and please – call me Mac." Mac shifted the backpack on his shoulders uncomfortably. When he responded to the comment it was with calm confidence. "I truly appreciate that you _both_ ," he wanted to make sure Joshua knew that he was included in the sentiment, "came to pick me up at the airport. I look forward to our hunting trip and you showing me the ropes." Joshua didn't speak, but the look of gratitude that he gave him spoke volumes.

"Please, it's Harland. And it was nothing – I'm glad to meet you and happy that you're able to help with our upcoming hunting trip," Harland spoke directly to Mac, excluding his son from the discussion. A loud beep indicated the baggage claim was turning on, drawing the man's attention. "Do you need to grab a suitcase?"

Mac forced a smile, as he picked up the bag he'd put down. "No. I have everything that I need here. I tend to travel light. Do we need to grab a cab? I'd be happy to cover the costs."

Harland scoffed at that, nose high in the air, "No. I brought my car. If you're ready, we can head out." Mac nodded his consent and followed the prickly man through the airport parking lot to his car.

Joshua slowly followed behind his father – nearly matching Mac's steps. Mac purposely slowed down to mirror the boy. Joshua timidly asked, "Can I help you with your bag, Dr. Ames?"

"That would be kind, Joshua. Thank you." The doctor allowed Joshua to take his black medical bag from him. While he truly didn't need help carrying it – it was a small thing to agree to that would create an emotional connection between them. He wanted the teenager to feel comfortable speaking to him, as it was obvious that the kid wanted to ask him something. "Sorry to keep you up this late," Mac softly mentioned, "You probably rather be in bed right now, huh?"

The boy looked at his father's back, before whispering, "I just want to go home."

Mac's heart beat faster at the comment, worried. "Where's home?"

The boy didn't get the chance to answer as they approached the vehicle. It was an ostentatious luxury town car – an '81 Lincoln in black with red leather interior. Mac had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the show of 'new money'. Mac rolled with a completely different crowd and they wouldn't be caught dead in a car like that unless it was a hearse. It was marketed towards those who wanted to keep up with the Jones as a 'luxury brand' and was in the Ford family to boot. His personal tastes ran towards European brands.

"Please, take the front. Joshua can take the back seat." Harland motioned for him to the front passenger seat. Joshua had already tossed the doctor's medical bag in the seat next to him and climbed in, the car door slamming behind him. Mac smiled fake again, taking his backpack off and sliding it to the corner of the floorboard before climbing in and closing the door behind him.

"I hope you don't mind, but I booked us two rooms at the Jefferson Hotel." Harland mentioned before turning on the car and starting their trip. "We'll be there in about 20 minutes."

"Dad – Can you _please_ drop me off at home?" Joshua asked, his voice was a bit frantic. "It's only 5 minutes away from the Jefferson. Mom wouldn't mind if you wanted to stay for the night… You can sleep in the guest room and Dr. Ames is welcome to my room. I can sleep on the couch."

"No!" Harland snarled. "You're with me for the next couple of weeks for the summer. You are coming on this hunt with me, remember?"

"But, it's _only 5 minutes_ away from where you're staying…" Joshua seemed to be getting worked up, his hands animated when he spoke "Mom needs -"

"Your mother is no longer my concern. My answer is no." The answer seemed to shock the boy. He gasped, but then rallied – agitated in trying to get his father to listen to him.

"But Dad, she's _sick_. She _just_ got out of the hospital."

At that Mac froze, this conversation wasn't merely uncomfortable – it was ringing alarm bells. The picture that was being painted wasn't a kind one. Thoughts of kidnapping and abuse cases from his recent consults with the FBI flashed in his mind. He'd only just begun consulting with the FBI – it hadn't been a year yet, but the cases he was asked to assist with were horrific. He used his psychic ability to get a feel for the man sitting by his side by touching the dashboard of the gaudy car, assuming that it was special enough to him to get a psychometric reading. He saw disdain for his son – the perceived weakness in what _he_ felt were feminine qualities, clearly sexist. Harland Sawyer was verbally and emotionally abusive to both his wife and son – his only saving grace that the abuse did not cross into the physical. He flashed on a dark-haired beauty in a scarf, Harland's ex –then flashed on the ring of the Triad, linking the two together. The man treated his family like steppingstones – stepping on them to get what he wanted until they cracked only to replace them with other stones. The rumor of him becoming the next Knight as he took advantage of those who loved him was now souring his first impression. Sawyer was not the kind of man that Ames would want to follow.

The doctor was never one to shy away from confrontation. Working as a neurosurgeon was one of the highest stress environments there was outside of a battlefield and he walked into FBI crime scenes that mimicked a war zone, so he could claim he had experience with both. He was also used to commanding in a polite, yet uncompromising manner designed to assure compliance without any argument.

"There's nothing wrong with your mother – the doctors let her go home. She's just milking the attention." Harland spoke unkindly – not showing an ounce of compassion for the woman that bore his child. "Stop whining like a bitch!"

The silence in the car was profound. Mac could hear the hitches in Joshua's breaths – the boy clearly trying not to cry in his distress. Whatever was happening at home with his mother was clearly out of the ordinary. A teenage boy wouldn't be _that upset_ over a cold or minor injury, nor would she have been in the hospital. Harland's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his face was red with controlled rage. Mac allowed the silence for the next fifteen minutes; strategically waiting until they were closer to their destination to speak as well as allowing the man driving to calm himself. It wouldn't do to put them all in a dangerous situation on the road.

Once they were stopped at a red light, he turned to the boy in the backseat, catching his eyes before speaking softly yet firmly in his take-charge manner. "Correct me if I am wrong Joshua, but I am making the assumption that your parents are recently divorced." Harland turned in his seat, his face redder than before. Mac put his hand up in the universal stop sign in front of the father's face to cut him off before he could start, continuing the conversation with the teenager. "Does your mother allow you to speak on her behalf? I need to know if she would become upset if I took you up on your generous offer to stay at your home since you don't have her implicit permission."

Joshua's mouth dropped open. Apparently, no one had ever gone against his father to take _his_ side before. "Joshua," Mac raised his voice but kept his tone soft to not frighten the kid, "would she be okay with my staying?"

"She would – she loves meeting new people and she always says that the door is always open to anyone in the Brotherhood," Joshua confirmed apprehensively, sliding his body closer to the passenger side; physically and emotionally connecting with the man who was offering to help. Mac reached out his hand to him waiting for Joshua to shake it. It only took a second of pause, but his hand was clasped in thanks. Mac squeezed his clammy hand – conveying without words that _he_ understood the seriousness of the situation, even if his father did not.

"Then, I would love to take you up on your offer, Joshua." With that, he turned to Harland. "As long as you don't take offense, Harland. It's not every day that I am offered a guest room in a home in a historic area of the city. I bet the architecture is incredible. While the Jefferson is a picturesque hotel – sometimes, a home-cooked meal in a warm friendly home is just what the doctor ordered. I believe Pastor Jim also may have mentioned something about your ex-wife being the Knight's daughter. I can only imagine that she has some fascinating stories to share about the Brotherhood Triad. I would treasure the opportunity to learn about our group's history." He kept his tone warm and slow in an effort not to trigger Sawyer's temper.

Harland Sawyer stared at him until the car behind them honked in frustration at their lack of movement. The light had turned green without their notice. He clenched his teeth but couldn't find fault in the doctor's logic. He had no recourse in preventing a fellow member of the Brotherhood from staying with his ex-wife and son, other than the fact that he was a stranger to them. After all – hadn't he just said that she no longer his concern… if the man ended up being a serial killer, it was on her for letting him in. He glared at the doctor but nodded his consent and pressed the gas pedal to continue their trip.

"If that's your decision, then I'll drop you both off at her door. I'll be at the Jefferson," Harland snapped. "I don't think it's necessary for you to accompany me on the hunt, Dr. Ames. After all, you'll be too busy listening to my ex-wife's boring stories about her father's Triad with my son."

Refusing to allow the man to assume control by eliciting an emotional response, Mac simply smiled. "I'm sure we won't be _too_ bored. I wish you the best on the hunt, Mr. Sawyer. I'm sure we'll run into each other at the next Brotherhood get-together. Thank you again for picking me up at the airport. Please don't hesitate to give me a call if I can ever return the favor."

Harland stomped on the breaks in anger, pulling up to the curb in front of a Colonial style home on Monument Avenue, and leaving tread marks on the pavement. Joshua threw his arms up to stop from colliding into the front passenger seat.

Mac grabbed the door handle and practically fell out of the car before it had stopped – once he was safely standing on the curb, he took several deep breaths to steady himself, hands on his knees. For a second, he'd flash-backed on the car accident that changed his entire life. The fear left him a bit shaky and he fought to regain his footing to stay in the present.

Joshua stepped out of the car – his body language closed off, nervous and fidgeting. He was unsure as to what would happen now that he was alone with a stranger – one that went against his father.

"Joshua," Mac called out to him as he straightened, "would you be so kind as to grab my bags from the car?"

The teen nodded, then grabbed the black bag from where it had been placed beside him before closing the back-passenger door behind him. Joshua snatched the backpack from the front floorboard a half-second before his father drove off. The speed in which the man fled off in the vehicle was enough to slam the passenger door closed in the momentum.

Joshua stared at the retreating red lights of the car; his father hadn't even said goodbye to him in his anger. It was pitch black outside, excluding the soft glow of a few windows across the road of their night-owl neighbors. In the dark, he allowed himself to shed a tear before quickly wiping it away to approach Dr. Ames, his bags in hand.

The doctor reached out to take his bags from Joshua, then placed his hand gently on the boy's shoulder – trying to meet his eyes. He bent slightly, wanting them to be on equal level. "Thank you for your trust. I imagine that was difficult to do, especially since you don't know me. I wanted to give you my word that I won't do anything to hurt you or your mother. I'm only here to help. Do you understand?"

"Yes…" Joshua mumbled, he met Mac's eyes then continued with a bit more confidence. "I've heard about you. My mother has as well. The other hunters say that you're a good man – that you're really smart too."

"That's thoughtful of them to say."

Joshua shrugged off his hand and walked towards the front door of their home. He reached into his pocket to pull out his house-key when Mac gently stopped him from inserting the key into the doorknob with a hand on his wrist. The light from the porch was bright enough to attract a few bugs that they needed to wave away.

"Before we walk in," Mac gave Joshua's wrist a light squeeze to capture his attention, "I need to know what the situation is. I will also need you to go in first before you introduce me to her, so she isn't frightened into thinking that I am breaking in or trying to kidnap you. You mentioned that she was sick and had been in the hospital, but they released her to go home… can you fill in the details?"

"It was all-of-a-sudden. One minute she was okay, and then she was sick. She threw up a bunch of times, then said her stomach hurt. She said she was in pain and it was bad – she couldn't even stand up. Since Dad was in town – I called him to come over. By the time he got to the house, she said she needed to go to the ER. Dad… he drove her to the ER and dropped us off there." The boy shuffled his feet and his eyes dropped in shame.

"He didn't stay with you at the hospital?"

Joshua shook his head.

"What did the doctors at the hospital say?"

With a deep breath, Joshua continued. "At first, they thought it was her appendix. They said they were going to prep her for surgery. They gave her medicine. They took blood – they took lots of blood. They said her white cells were high… I don't know what that means. Suddenly, they said it wasn't her appendix and that she should go home. They called us a cab because I couldn't find Dad."

"Did they give you a diagnosis? Tell you what's wrong or give her any medications to take home?"

"No - nothing. They just told her to go home. Said if she got worse to come back to the Emergency Room."

"Is she getting worse?"

"Yeah. She started crying… and she was curled into a ball. Dr. Ames, my mom never cries. I called my Dad again, but he wouldn't listen to me. I thought he was going to go to the pharmacy to get Mom medicine and he wanted me to go with him - but we ended up in the airport to pick you up… he told me that you were a doctor but that your job was to help in at the hunt. I figured I'd take a shot and see if Dad would change his mind on the way home…" The depth of the betrayal he felt was evident in his tone, "I didn't think he'd blow her off. I didn't think he'd be _angry_ …"

"I'm glad that you took that shot, Joshua and I sure your mother will appreciate how you fought on her behalf." Mac paused, analyzing the information he was given, "Well, let's see what I can do. How about you go inside now and tell her that I'm here."

"Okay."

Stopping the boy from continuing inside, Mac realized he required one more critical piece of data, "I have one additional question."

Joshua squirmed from his need to go inside the house, frustrated by the delay. "What's that?"

"What's her name?" Mac asked with a smile, "I suppose I can just call her Joshua's Mom, but would prefer to be introduced properly."

Joshua huffed a laugh in relief at the simple question, "Her name is Esme Madrigal." He then opened the door that would lead him to his mother. "You can come in and wait in the entryway. I'll tell her that you're here."

Joshua walked inside, flipped on the lamp by the front door, then quickly made his way up the stairs towards what Mac assumed was his mother's bedroom. "Mom?" Mac walked in behind the teen, closing the door behind him softly. He looked around the entryway and towards the living room in the front. An intricately carved wood staircase with antique baluster and handrails was to the right. The fragrance of the home was soothing – the scent was a mixture of sandalwood and botanicals permeating from the potpourri filled bowl on the hall table on his left. He placed his bags by the closet door as he waited for the signal that he could come up.

From his position at the bottom of the staircase, he could hear the sounds of vomiting and winced. He heard several bouts over the next few minutes – then the flush of a toilet. Joshua's voice was a lower volume from the hallway but clearly heard in the pin-quiet home, "I'll help you to bed, Mom. Then I'll ask Dr. Ames to come up."

The teenager came down the stairs with a serious expression a few minutes later – eyes filled with fear. "Dr. Ames, my mother said you can come up. She wanted me to tell you that our house is your house and that she's sorry that she's not up to being a good hostess. I can take your bag to the guest room and show you around."

Mac patted Joshua's shoulder in support. "How about we skip the tour for now and I check in on your mother?" He waited for the scared boy to nod, then followed him up the stairs with his medical bag in hand. They passed what was clearly Joshua's room, as well as a full bathroom before making their way to the master bedroom. The door was closed.

Joshua was planning to simply open the door, but Mac beat him to it by knocking on the door. "May I come in?" He put up his pointer finger asking the boy to wait until his mother replied.

"You can come in, Dr. Ames," the feminine voice sounded brittle through the door as if trying not to cry. When he heard his mother, Joshua became even more anxious – wringing his hands. Mac patted the boy's back before reaching over to open the door leading to his patient.

The room was softly lit – both table lamps turned on – making it easier to see the huddled figure on the bed. She was curled into a fetal position on her right side on the queen-sized bed lying closest to the door. She didn't open her eyes upon his approach towards her bed. Her hand was covering her face and the doctor could clearly hear her attempts to mask her groans, so the only thing visible was her wavy long dark brown hair on the pillow. Mac looked around the room and found a wastebasket being used as an emesis basin beside her bed. There was also a pile of papers on her vanity that looked thick enough to be hospital records. He recognized an EKG pattern on the top sheet confirming his hypothesis as he got closer. There was a chair in the corner of the room. It smelled of lavender and sickness.

Joshua went over to the left side of the bed. Then, he kicked off his shoes before climbing in to sit on the mattress beside her. He gently ran his hand down her hair worriedly, "Mom? Are you alright?"

Mac simply observed for a minute - counting the breaths she took before answering her son, calculating 18 breaths, which was normal. Her voice was pained and husky. "It's just painful honey. I'm okay." She continued the controlled deep breaths for several more minutes before opening her glistening brown eyes to the stranger in her bedroom.

The doctor had knelt so that he could meet her eyes. They were focused, yet watery. No signs of confusion. "Hello," he smiled at her.

Esme tried to smile back, but it was a pained grimace. "I wanted to thank you for coming, Dr. Ames. Joshua mentioned that you wanted to visit with us. Please make yourself at home. Joshua can get you settled into the guest room. Neither of you needs to worry, I'm sure I'll be okay in the morning." Her voice was soft and melodic, friendly even when in pain. Her hand went back to covering her eyes and face as if dismissing their concerns about her health. Mac was unsure if it was a headache or a pain response at this point.

"You can call me Mac. I offered Joshua my help and would like to extend it to you. I'd like your permission to treat you, Ms. Madrigal. If you allow me, perhaps I can help you avoid another visit to the Emergency Room."

She didn't answer, her breaths now coming in gasps. Esme paled as reached out for her wastebasket on the floor – Mac moved quickly to pick it up and put it by her head. He helped her move to avoid vomiting on the bedsheets or him, while Joshua held her hair back. The next bout was ineffective – she purged nothing but bile. The doctor waited until she was done before reaching for a tissue on her nightstand and handing it to her. She wiped her mouth, then dropped the tissue in the used bin. "I'm sorry," she cried.

"You don't have to be sorry. It doesn't bother me. It's my job… Consider this a house call." Mac grasped her hand in comfort – it was something he didn't typically do with patients, preferring to ask a nurse to handle the emotional parts of the job, but she looked distressed and he wanted to offer her support in a small way. "Can you please give me permission to examine you? I know you're in pain... Joshua tells me that you're getting worse and that the doctors told you to come back to the hospital in that event. I need to assess you to determine if I need to call an ambulance."

It was quiet for a few seconds; Mac could see that she was considering denying the offer. "Mom? Please…" Joshua begged her tearily. Her resolve dissolved at her son's imploring, and she nodded her consent.

Consent established; Mac shifted his fingers from her hand so that he could take her pulse at her wrist – her heart racing at 120 BMP. "I'm just taking your pulse." He pulled out a glass thermometer from its case, wiped it with alcohol before slipping it under her tongue when she automatically opened. Once he judged it long enough, he took it back and read it – thankfully it was normal. He watched her, running through a mental diagnostic list, "Does it hurt less when you control your breathing?"

Esme shook her head, "No – just keeps me from throwing up."

"How many times have you vomited today?" While he asked, he squeezed her fingernail, then let go to judge her capillary refill time. It was normal. A light pinch and release on the skin at the top of her hand were not normal – clearly showing signs of poor turgor.

"I don't remember…" She murmured. Her face was becoming even paler and her eyes were slipping closed again. Mac rechecked her pulse – it was now at 135 BMP.

"I think it was 10 times today – but I don't know if she was sick when I wasn't here." Mac turned his attention to the teen. The boy was becoming pale as his mother, clearly guilt-ridden that he'd left her alone.

Mac smiled at him, "That great information Joshua – you did a good job by counting." He turned back to his patient, "Do you have a robe that you can change into?" Esme nodded yes. "Joshua, maybe you can grab it for your Mom? I assume you know where it is?"

"Yeah," Joshua jumped to make himself useful. Grateful that he wasn't entirely made helpless.

"Ms. Madrigal – I'm going to step out of the room and let Joshua help you into the robe. I'll need everything off but the robe, okay? Open in the front."

"Esme," she breathed, "You can call me Esme…anyone who sees me puke gets to call me by my first name."

Mac chuckled at that, "Alright, Esme." He pointed to the stack of hospital papers on the vanity, "I'm going to read through your hospital records while you get changed. I'll be back in a few minutes." With that, he gathered the papers, walked out of the bedroom, and softly closed the door behind him.

He went into the bathroom, flipping on the light switch and sitting down on the closed toilet lid. He flipped through the papers one-by-one, getting angrier the closer he got to the final page. He rubbed a hand over his face in frustration – if there was one thing he hated in his fellow medical professionals; it was negligence. He lay the papers down on the back of the toilet to keep them from getting wet as he thoroughly washed his hands and face. Once he dried off, he took in a deep breath and started towards the bedroom.

"Can I come in?" He called out.

"Come in!" Joshua shouted, "Hurry".

The doctor strode in, immediately noticing his patient was face down in bed and curled into a small ball with her arms wrapped around her abdomen. Joshua was beside her, rubbing her back, his hands trembling in his fear for his mother. Mac practically flew to her side. "What's happening, Esme?"

"Fuck," she swore, then started weeping. "This hurts as much as when I was in labor. At least I got my beautiful boy after that pain though. I don't know _what_ this is."

"Can you try to breathe through the worst of the pain?" Mac placed a hand on her shoulder, kneeling down so he could keep an eye on her breathing. "Once you're able to, I need you to lie down on your back. I want to give you some pain medication, take some blood work, then start you on a saline drip. You're dehydrated."

About ten minutes later, Esme turned on her side back in a fetal position, her arms still wrapped around her belly. "Joshua – tonight, you're going to be my nurse – okay? Can you please grab a few extra pillows and bring them in here. Also, can you get me a container filled with ice that has a top? It has to be medium-sized to fit a couple of tubes of blood." The boy did as he was bid, returning in less than a couple of minutes.

"Esme," Mac soothed, "I'm going to help turn you on your back. Joshua is going to put the pillows under your knees so that it's a bit more comfortable for you." Mac stacked up a few pillows so that he could easily move them under her head once he lifted her up. With that, he slid an arm under her knees and the other behind her back. He nodded to Joshua once she was shifted so he could do his part first. Once the pillows under her legs were in place, he adjusted the pillows behind her back so that she was slightly upright. She blanched at the movement, so Mac pulled away to give her a moment to catch her breath.

He moved to set up his bag on the vanity table, clearing away a few lotion bottles to the floor so that he had room to work. He pulled out a pair of exam gloves, alcohol, tourniquet, a syringe, an IV set, and his only package of saline. "Can you describe the pain for me? Is it worse when you move?"

"It's like someone is stabbing me in the side. It's like a wave– almost like labor with peaks of intensity then periods where it's not as bad. And yes, it's worse when I move." Esme wiped at her eyes, then turned to look at her son and stroked his hair from his eyes. "I'm okay, sweetheart. It's getting a bit better now."

"Does anything specific bring it on? Like coughing or urinating?"

"It seems like everything I do brings it on…"

" **Is** there _any possibility_ that you're pregnant?" When Mac asked, Esme, shook her head rapidly denying it. It wasn't common, but there were women who went into labor without knowing they were with child. Some of them live births while others miscarriages.

The doctor prepared his kit, then went over to move the chair in the corner of the room closer to the bed. He found a coat rack in the other corner of the room, so he grabbed it and an empty hanger from the closet then shifted the nightstand over to make room for his make-shift IV bag holder. He hooked the saline bag from the wire hanger, then attached the tubing to the bag, and started the flow until there were no bubbles in the line. He clamped the tube in preparation.

He sat on the chair, then picked up his patient's right arm to look for a vein. Both of her arms were covered in needle marks and bruises. "They got you good at the hospital. How many times did they poke you?"

"I lost track…" Esme huffed. "I stopped counting after the sixth time."

Mac fought to keep his expression pleasant as he prodded her arm for a vein – the rule of thumb was to stop after the third attempt at starting an IV. He was definitely going to write a letter to the hospital administration. "Well, let's see if I can get it in one try. I found a good one."

He pulled on the gloves, then wiped her inner arm with alcohol before allowing it to dry for a few seconds. Tying the tourniquet a couple of inches above the injection site, he found his angle and inserted the needle without a fuss. Taping it down, he quickly attached the tubing and taped it so that it couldn't easily be disturbed if she moved. It was easy enough to use the line to pull a couple of tubes of blood to rerun tests. He wrote the date, time, and name on the tubes placing them in the frozen Tupperware container until he could get it to a lab.

"Wow, you're really good at that," Joshua commented.

"Thank you," Mac smiled, "though, I'd be an awful surgeon if I couldn't find a vein – no matter what the stereotype says."

Esme arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, "You're a surgeon?"

"Yes, I am." Mac cleaned up the bed and threw the needles in his travel-sized red sharps container in his bag. He tucked the tourniquet into the zippered pocket where it belonged. He threw the paper, gloves, and plastic in the garbage bin before grabbing the vial of morphine from the locked padded medicine case. He drew 4 cc's in a syringe, then inserted it into the port closest to her skin pressing the plunger to deliver the pain medication. "My specialty is neurosurgery."

Joshua's mouth dropped open, "You're a brain surgeon? No way!"

Mac handed the boy one of his business cards from his pocket. It was thick card stock with gold embossed letters spelling out his name, office, and profession alongside his contact information. "I have an office in NYC." He left another card on the nightstand for Esme.

"Jim didn't mention that," she slurred, "he just said you were a doctor and you consulted with the FBI."

"Both of those facts are true." Mac inserted the earbuds of his stethoscope in his ears, then went about listening to her heart. The morphine must have taken the edge off because her heart rate dropped to 90 bpm – it was on the edge of high but nothing too worrisome. "Can you take a deep breath?" He moved the bell around asking her to breathe once he was in the correct spot. "Joshua, can you please grab the blood pressure cuff from my bag? It's navy blue." He slipped the stethoscope around his neck with a motion that doctors everywhere perfected.

Joshua passed him the item in question, moving aside when the doctor approached the left side of the bed opposite the arm with the IV, sitting down on the edge in order to reach across the queen-sized bed. He wrapped the cuff around her upper arm, then replaced the earbuds so he could press the stethoscope to her inner elbow while he pumped the bulb with his other hand. "Do you take high blood pressure medicine? I'm reading 145/91 right now."

"No," Esme shook her head, "I don't." He released the bulb but kept the cuff loose around her arm, then got up to stand on the right side of the bed.

"What does that mean?" Joshua questioned fearfully. "Is it high?"

"Yeah, it's high, but pain can do that – so, it's something I'll keep an eye on throughout the evening. I'm going to inject a low-dose of heparin to prevent any blood clots since your pressure is high and you're currently immobile. Are you currently taking any blood thinners, like aspirin or warfarin?"

"No. I don't take any medicine – I usually prefer natural remedies for common ailments."

"That's good. That means you're healthy," Mac reassured her. "I don't believe in overmedicating my patients. I'm also not one of those doctors _completely_ against herbal and natural remedies – as long as they take the medication that I prescribe without arguing with me when I say they _need it_."

He pulled out another syringe – this one thin with a smaller needle gauge. "This is going to need to be injected in your abdomen. I'll be quick – and it won't hurt but a pinch. Okay?"

"Okay, Dr. Ames. I trust your judgment."

The doctor covered his patient with a towel on top and left the area under her belly button covered with the blanket as he opened the robe. He wiped the area with alcohol to administer the subcutaneous injection, then covered her back up with the blanket. He sat back in the chair, grabbing a piece of paper to document the medications, vital signs, and administration times.

"Did they give you a physical exam at the hospital?" Mac asked, knowing that the answer was most likely to be 'no' since it hadn't been documented in the paperwork.

"They checked to make sure it wasn't my appendix…" Esme was confused by the question. "They felt around my stomach."

"On a scale of 1 to 10, where 10 is the worst pain you've experienced, how bad is it _right now_ after the morphine?"

"Maybe a 5 or 6," she answered.

"Can you show me where it hurts?" She put her hand on her lower right-side pelvis towards her natural waist, then shifting to the right kidney.

Mac shuffled, rubbing his mouth, "I want to do a head-to-toe physical exam to make sure that we aren't missing anything. Severe pain in the lower right quadrant is usually one of two things in women: appendix or ovary. The medical record shows that you have a very high white blood count – it's usually indicative of an infection, but your urine came out normal as did the other tests. You're dehydrated, your heart rate and pressures are high. With that criteria, you would be classified as a high-septic risk. The hospital shouldn't have discharged you…"

"Can you figure out what's wrong with me?"

"I'm going to try… I'd like Joshua to step out of the room during the exam. If you'd like to call a girl-friend or neighbor to stay with you…"

"It's not necessary, Doctor. It's 2:30 am – I'm not going to wake my neighbors. Never mind the fact that I've given birth – there's not a self-conscious bone left in me after that experience." She turned to her son, smiled at him. "But, you were _so_ worth it my baby."

Joshua looked for a sign that his mother was uncomfortable with the doctor and didn't find one. He stepped out of the room as he was asked and closed the door behind him.

Dr. Ames donned another pair of exam gloves, then went about systematically examining the major organs. He started at the head and neck, palpating her lymph nodes, then moving his hands down her body until he got to her abdomen. He started at the top quadrants, cupping each organ and moving it from side to side. He kept an eye on her expression, "any pain here?"

"No – not there."

"Okay, I'm going to do an internal. I'm going to pull the pillows so you can raise your legs. Can you lift your hips?" He quickly pulled the cushions and placed them on the ground. "Okay, just need you to relax and let your legs fall open."

He squeezed a dollop of medical-grade lubricant on his gloved fingers, then pulled the blanket up so that it was tented over her legs. "Just a bit of pressure." He inserted his finger, then quickly felt for her ovaries on either side of her abdomen – starting on the left. When he reached the right side, he lightened the pressure – expecting her to jump when he touched it. Esme's reaction was similar to the left side. "Does this hurt?"

"Only a little bit."

"Can you point out the area where it hurts?"

He pressed on the area of question and got a small groan. He continued the exam, pressing his hand lower over her bladder on the left side. She yelped loudly and tried to pull away. He noted the reaction and continued towards the right; it was as he suspected when she cried out louder. He pulled out and changed out his gloves in quick order. "Nearly done." He moved the exam back to the left side, tapping her kidney to check for its involvement. He copied the motion to the right side. There was a slight wince, but no cries or guarding. "I'm just going to check your legs now – I want to be sure the infection hasn't spread to your lymph nodes." He covered her legs with the sheet layered under the blanket then ran his hands down the inside of her legs to under her knees – he didn't feel any nodules through the covers. Her ankles weren't swollen, and her toes were healthy. To complete the exam, he took her pulse at her ankles then pulled the thicker blanket down over the sheet and past her feet.

He pulled away and sat back in the chair near her head, letting her lower her legs and regain her equilibrium. He waited until she was looking back at him in curiosity before he shared his findings. "You have a bladder infection - cystitis. I'm going to start you on an IV dose of antibiotics for tonight – then in the morning, I'll run to the pharmacy to pick-up a 7-day pack of pills. I'll make sure you get something for the pain as well."

"I – I don't understand. That's not where it hurts now - but when you touched…" The pain was breathtaking. It was hard to imagine that it was being caused by a simple UTI that no one in the hospital could discover; leaving her to manage it alone with a 13-year old boy. She _truly_ thought it had been her appendix. It was the only thing that made sense when comparing it to previous instances of severe pain.

"…You cried out. It's fairly common, especially in neurology– it's called referred pain. You can feel pain in a different area of the body from the root cause. Most of the time, it's in the same segment. It's why a physical exam is an important part of diagnostic medicine. You'd be surprised how many cases I've managed in which elderly patients with an acute dementia diagnosis that end up being simple urinary infections. It's easy for doctors to make assumptions; I think it's important to be thorough."

He held out two vials: "This one (trimethoprim) is an antibiotic and this one (cyclizine) is for nausea/vomiting. I won't poke you again, they'll go in the IV, alright?" He waited until she nodded, then went about injecting the drugs in the port. "I only have the one bag of saline – so after it's empty, you'll need to drink plenty of fluids… I can't promise you that it won't hurt, but it'll help clear out the infection faster. It should resolve within 7 to 10 days."

He cleaned up the mess he left, making sure everything was packed up and organized. In the morning, he'd restock his supply from the pharmacy. He'd make sure he got a couple of extra bags of saline – just in case.

"I'm going to wash up. I'll check on you in a little while. Would you mind if I borrowed your phone? I need to make a few phone calls."

"Of course, Joshua can show you where it is. Please make yourself at home – it's the least I could offer."

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

"I'm going to let you rest now – I'll check in on you throughout the evening; I want to monitor your heart rate and blood pressure. I'll try not to wake you if you doze off. That okay?" She nodded, then closed her eyes to rest.

Mac walked out of the bedroom nearly tripping on the teenager sitting by the door. "You scared me for a second there… I almost fell on you." He held out a hand to help pull Joshua to his feet. Mac was sure that Joshua could hear what was happening in the room; being overprotective of his mother.

"Is my mom alright? I heard her cry out…" Joshua couldn't keep the accusation out of his voice.

With a tired smile, Mac explained. "She'll be fine – just needs an antibiotic, fluid, and rest. I was hoping that I could take you up on your offer of a tour… your mother gave me permission to use your phone. I need to make a few calls in order to get a lab to analyze her bloodwork. Then, I need to find an open late-night pharmacy willing to fill her prescriptions and restock my medical bag. I was hoping you could show me where I'll be staying for the evening along with directing me to your phone."

Joshua acquiesced, relaxing in knowing that Ames was making good on his promise to put her needs first. There was no need to be rude to the man this late at night for inadvertently hurting his mother during the exam. Reasonably, the teenager believed it was inevitable that the check-up would hurt her considering how much pain she was already in. "Of course, Dr. Ames. Thank you again." He flicked on a light switch to illuminate the hallway, then walked towards the end of the hall to the bedroom furthest away from the master and bathroom. "This will be your room. Please let me know if I can bring you anything like an extra blanket or a toothbrush. I think you already know where the bathroom is."

"I do. I'll need to grab her hospital records – I left them on the toilet. I hope I can beg another favor and ask you to bring up my backpack. I'm going to wash up…"

The doctor washed his hands in the bathroom, wondering about the family he was now staying with. The rush of adrenaline on his part was waning – making him recognize the fact that it was 3:00 am and he'd been up all day. He wiped at his face, forcing the tiredness to fade at least until the bag of saline emptied and the calls were made. Mac dried his hands, grabbed the stack of hospital records, then met Joshua at the doorway of his guestroom. The teenager had put his bag on the trunk at the end of the queen-sized bed along with an extra pillow and blanket. It was a simple room tastefully decorated and homey with a feminine touch. Mac realized scent played an important part in this household when the scent of lavender reached his senses.

"Thank you, Joshua. If you can direct me to your phone, I'll get out of your hair so you can get some sleep. I'll pop my head back in about a half-hour to check in on your mother."

He was directed back down the stairs and to the kitchen where the light was turned on. A mustard-colored press-button telephone was placed on the corner of the countertop. It had a short cord that was only slightly tangled up, so a couple of tall bar stools were placed on either side for comfort during long phone calls. The Richmond Phone Directory book was stacked up near it alongside recipe books. There was a cup filled with pens and pencils with scrap paper next to the phone for convenience. Mac dropped the stack of papers on the counter, then shuffled them around, organizing them by the doctors' names.

"Dr. Ames, can I bring you something to drink or eat?" Joshua awkwardly perched by the counter.

"No thank you… I'll be okay for now." Mac realized the teenager wanted to speak to him, so he pointed to the barstool across from him. "Do you want to talk? You seem to have something on your mind."

The teenager stepped closer but didn't sit down. Mac watched the boy stare at his hands, then look up at him. "Why?"

Puzzled, the doctor shook his head tiredly, unable to guess at what the boy was asking this late at night. "I'm sorry I don't understand your question."

Joshua looked visibly upset, "I just – I don't understand. _You_ came with me when I asked…"

Mackland suddenly understood. His voice was soft, comforting the boy. "I came with you _because_ you persuaded me. Helping people is one of the guiding principles that the Brotherhood was founded. Additionally, I _am_ a doctor; if you give me a choice whether to save a life or take life –during a hunt as a real-time example –saving a life will always win out. It's also part of our creed to protect our own."

Joshua stared at him, innocent, as he explained his point-of-view, "I'm sorry that your father let you down… I think Harland _may_ have confused his priorities." The last part was spoken gently – not wanting to blame the man for his failures in front of his teenage son. "You did a great job in remembering what's really important, Joshua. It takes guts. I'm glad that I met you. It makes me feel hopeful for the future that you'll one day become one of my Brothers."

"You said you wanted to learn about my Grandfather…" Joshua questioned, overwhelmed.

He spoke sadly, considering the assumption that Harland treated his son like a tool; Joshua probably didn't understand how a good man always put his family first and didn't expect anything else in return for that pleasure. "It would be incredible if I got a chance to learn more about your Grandfather's history within the Triad, but it was not a contingency. I don't expect nor require anything in return from you – or your mother. That's not the way I operate. I only mentioned that I wanted to use meeting your mother as an opportunity because I knew it was a way to defuse the situation with your father. I was – for lack of a better method at that moment – speaking his language as to not negatively impact our future interactions within the Brotherhood. I meant no disrespect – none to you, nor _either_ of your parents."

Joshua didn't speak for several seconds, lost in his own thoughts. "I kept thinking that if I changed – if I stopped learning about the craft or tone down my opinions – my dad would come back home. Everything I do disappoints him…"

Mac ducked his head down to meet Joshua's eyes, "Now, he's disappointed you."

"He _really_ doesn't care anymore. He doesn't care about my mom. I don't think he cares about me either," it was spoken in a whisper as if speaking the words aloud would make them true.

The doctor wished he could reassure the boy that it wasn't the case, but he'd seen inside the man. Harland Sawyer was a narcissist. "He's your father; there's no changing him… you'll have to figure out how to navigate your relationship. You're a young man and you'll have to learn strategies for all types of difficulties in life. This is the time to start learning how to set boundaries as well as advocate for your beliefs, even if it doesn't always align with the people you love. You don't want to sacrifice your well-being trying to meet unrealistic expectations or blame yourself for the things you can't control. You have to be true to yourself."

Joshua swallowed, rubbing his face with his hands. Mac could tell the teenager heard him. "What if I don't know how to?"

With a tired smile, Mac said simply, "I think you're being a bit tough on yourself – you're stronger than you think. Right now, though, you're exhausted. You can't be expected to solve your family when you can barely keep your eyes open, kid. Why don't you head to bed? I think you know in your heart you can trust me… you don't need to stay up and protect your mother from me." He knew he hit the nail on the head when Joshua's eyes grew wide and gapped at him.

"I'm not afraid of you," it was said defensively – the thirteen-year-old coming out from behind the adult façade.

"I'm _really_ glad to hear that, Joshua. Then, let your guard down… take a few deep breaths, kiss your mother goodnight, and try to get some sleep. Alright?"

"Alright…," Joshua agreed, "Goodnight, _Mac_."

"Goodnight."

Mac watched the kid make his way up the stairs to get himself ready for bed. He closed his eyes for a few minutes before pulling out his pocket phone book for his contacts in the city. He knew he was in for a fight and he wasn't planning on giving up.

* * *

Esme was a light sleeper and couldn't help but wake when her son opened the door. The medications that the doctor gave helped, the pain not as sharp as it had been throughout the day. She didn't quite know what to make of the man. His personality hidden away beneath a mask of professionalism. If she wasn't feeling so very poorly, she would try and chip away at that mask so she could meet the man underneath. She only saw a glimpse of him when he laughed at her joke.

She turned to her son, who'd shuffled in quietly and stood at the side of her bed. "You okay, sweetheart?" There was something in her son's sad eyes – she knew he was struggling with the divorce, but this seemed to be something else.

"I'm good, Mom. Are you okay?" He looked at the IV bag, only a third of the fluid left, dripping in her arm. "You look a little better."

"I'm feeling better – the morphine is helping. It's nothing serious, Joshua; apparently, it's just a bladder infection. I'll ask your Grandmother if she suggests any herbal remedies in the morning. I feel embarrassed and stupid – I should have known the symptoms… I've had it once before when I was pregnant with you. It didn't feel the same this time. I was never in that much pain before, excluding labor."

"You're not stupid, Mom. Not even the doctors at the hospital knew… Dr. Ames was the only one who figured it out." Joshua let the words tail off.

Esme picked up on the nonverbal cues, "You're okay with him being here, aren't you?"

"Of course, I _invited him_ , Mom…" Joshua argued.

"But, that doesn't mean you're comfortable with a man other than your father with us in our home..." Esme knew Joshua was trying to get his father to come back home and how he used her illness as an opportunity to invite him back in. She knew that her son wished that his father would see her in need and remember his love for their family. She saw the look of utter devastation in his eyes when Harland shoved them out of his car and in front of the Emergency Room doors, not turning back to see how either of them fared before leaving them stranded. When Harland came back to pick Joshua up after they released her, she could see the hope in his eyes that his father would step up. Esme was shocked when her son returned with Dr. Mackland Ames, the newest card-carrying member of the Brotherhood; one that she hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting. She'd heard through the grapevine that he was a highly intelligent, no-nonsense type of man who occasionally helped the FBI find missing children. Dr. Ames often worked with Pastor James Murphy, who kindly watched over Joshua during the worst of the divorce proceedings while she built a home for them both in Richmond.

"Dad didn't want to come… he had a choice and he chooses the hunt over you. Dr. Ames made a different decision. He chose to help us, while Dad drove away." Joshua paused, thinking of his mother's original question, "I trust Dr. Ames, Mom. I didn't at first, but, he's … he's good. He _actually_ cares about what I think. Mac says he doesn't want anything in return for helping you – and I believe him. I'm okay with him staying here. _He_ won't hurt us."

"For what it's worth, Joshua, I agree with you - I have a good feeling about Dr. Ames." Esme smiled tiredly, "You know what I always say about strangers."

"When you invite them in, they won't be strangers for long," Joshua finished his mother's favorite saying, "Goodnight, Mom." He gave his mom a kiss on her cheek, then slipped out to his bedroom.

Esme relaxed against the pillows, trying to get comfortable. The pain was ramping up again so, she focused on her breathing. She turned on her right side, trying not to pull on the IV in her arm. The movement caused a sharp pain in her belly she tried to rub away. She was going to be alright – it would just take a week or so.

She dozed for an unknown amount of time, until she heard her door open again, startling her awake. "Sorry," she heard a soft whisper, "I was trying not to wake you."

The doctor walked in and grabbed his stethoscope out of the bag he placed on her vanity. "It's okay. I'm a light sleeper –plus, I was going to call out for you anyway." She pointed at the now empty saline bag, "I'm running on empty."

Mac gave her another one of his warm smiles, "I have a great sense of timing. I'll remove it in a minute. I just want to take set of vitals." He started with a pulse rate, it was still high at 92 bpm, then slipped the earbuds in to take her blood pressure. He adjusted the blue cuff back into place, then used the bulb to pump it to take the reading: 135/95. "Still a bit high – how are you doing with the pain?"

"Pain hasn't gone away, it was ebbing for a little while – but, it's ramping back up now."

Nodding his understanding, he clamped the tubing of her IV, then unhooked it, tossing out the tubing and the empty bag in the trash bin. "It makes sense – as your bladder fills, the pain gets worse. It's what you were describing earlier." He pulled on a pair of gloves, then pulled out a sterile gauze and tape. "I'll pull out the needle so you can get up." Less than a minute later, the needle was out, her arm was bandaged, and the area was cleaned up.

Esme thanked him, then shifted so she could stand. As much as she tried, she couldn't stand up straight, immediately leaning over to hold her stomach. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, unintended.

"Do you want to take my arm?" Mac extended his elbow to her gallantly. "I'll help you down the hall."

She took him up on the offer, slipping her arm through his as they made their way down the hall at a snail's pace. They passed Joshua's bedroom – her son had left the door open so they could see an outline of him covered in a blanket. They were quiet as they shuffled to the bathroom as to not wake the teen.

The doctor gently slipped his arm from hers before stepping inside to turn on the bathroom light. "Do you think you'll be okay?" He waited for her to nod before continuing, "I'll wait out here but, maybe it's a good idea not to lock the door. Just call out if you need help."

Esme nodded, letting the wall support her as she entered the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She made her way to the toilet holding on to the sink and cabinet. Usually, a person emptied their bladder from six to eight times a day, so it was nothing new to her, but this time – the burning took her breath away. She sat there for a few minutes, before grabbing a washcloth – dampening it with a little bit of water from the sink, then wiped both the urine and the now dried jelly off. The cloth was dropped through the laundry shoot afterward; it was one of the things that were unique about this house – it was one of the few in the city with a basement.

She wrapped the robe around her waist securely, then went to the sink to wash her hands. She caught sight of her reflection, she _looked_ sick. Her hair was a mess and her skin pale white. Usually, she took pride in her appearance – and now, she couldn't bring herself to care, wanting anything more than to sleep. Esme dried her hands, then made her way to the door. As promised, Dr. Ames waited for her. She patted his offered arm in a wordless pass, then made her way down the hall on her own steam with the wall as a guide.

Her bed never looked so inviting as she sank down against the mattress. Dr. Ames followed behind her then sat at the chair by her bed. Esme wiped the corner of her eyes from the unshed tears of pain. "Is there anything I can do for you before I head to bed?" She heard Mac ask. For a moment that feeling of a lump in her throat kept her from answering – the man was practically a stranger and was treating her kindlier than the man to whom she had been married to for fourteen years. Thinking back, she couldn't remember the last time Harland had done anything for her that didn't benefit him. She had let love blind her.

"No, thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning." Esme gave him the faintest of smiles.

"Okay," Mac nodded, then stood, " _this time_ , I believe you. You know where you can find me if you need me… Sleep well, Esme." With that, he quietly moved the furniture back where he found it, then picked up his medical bag to take back to the guest room on the way out. "Goodnight…"

She stared at her bedroom door after he shut it quietly behind himself wondering 'what ifs'. Usually, she wasn't one to think back on regret, focusing her energy in areas where she could improve her family's life. It was one of the reasons why she opened her shop; she wanted to empower women like her. She sold essential oils, beauty supplies, lotions, herbal teas, candles, and books – to name a few things. Esme grew up from a line of strong women; ones that were blessed with knowledge passed down generation to generation of witches. She wasn't avowed to a coven, so her talents were hers to use for her own purposes – without consequence. She chose to teach her son.

It was that final choice that seemed to have rocked the boat on her marriage. Her husband considered her craft womanly and inconsequential. Even the income she brought in after she opened up her first beauty shop seemed to emasculate him – going so far to ask her to call him by his middle name 'Harland' instead of the name he was born with, Richard. He resented the fact that she was the one to keep their family afloat during the economic downturn; her husband's salesman skills weren't good enough when everyone was unemployed. Harland refused to adapt to the new environment; his attitude like an old man who refused to see the world for what it was – reminiscing about the 'good old days' where a man was expected to be the breadwinner and the wife to be a homemaker. Her decision to teach Joshua the same talents that her mother had taught her disgusted Harland, but she wanted to make sure that her son was more flexible in his beliefs. The world was changing faster than anyone could predict; quoting Darwin, those who were able to adapt would better survive. While most women still stayed at home to care for the children, the tides were turning. They were becoming more educated in all business sectors from science to technology to wall street. Jobs were plentiful and the career opportunities would soon surpass the still stereotypical gender limitations of nursing, teaching, and typing.

Joshua would be a better man than his father. His actions throughout her illness only served to solidify that in her mind. While Joshua was her shining light – he was a thirteen-year-old boy; one who had his father's charisma and persuasive personality. The divorce was tough on him and he had started acting out – behaving in ways that he felt were 'manly' in hopes that it would impress his father.

Harland had left them both – but dangled his love like a carrot to his son; she could see how hard Joshua worked to earn his father's attention, only to have a hunt – or one of his paramours – take it away. Esme wasn't surprised that Harland came to Richmond; they were trying to keep things between them neutral so that Joshua wouldn't be torn playing a tug-of-war. He drove up to pick his son up for a two-week hunting trip in the outskirts of Wolf Trap, Virginia.

It had been a bad circumstance that she had needed to be taken to the Emergency Room as soon as her ex-husband arrived. Looking back, the stress of the divorce, the up-rooting move, and the grand opening of her new shop was most likely a factor in her declining health. Harland caught her in a moment alone while Joshua grabbed her purse, whispering that he didn't believe that she was sick – that she was acting to keep his son from him in that know-it-all tone of his. She'd been unable to fight back – pulling away from his grasp to throw up in the nearest decorative bowl where they'd been standing while he stared at her in disgust. Esme asked for a clean break during the divorce hearing. She didn't want anything from her ex, but she was cordial if only because Harland was still Joshua's father. Apparently, asking for compassion was too much to ask.

Joshua stepped up in his father's place – for the first time becoming the 'man of the house'. He ordered his father to drive them to the hospital; not allowing Harland to deny the request. Throughout it, Joshua stayed with her – ignoring his father's request from the driver's seat to leave her at the hospital. Harland had tried to persuade him to continue with their original plan as a nurse helped Esme inside with a wheelchair, telling him that his mother was in the hospital now and the doctors would care for her. After all, there was nothing Joshua could do but ring his hands in worry and wait for the doctors to let her go home – Harland said. There was no need to stay. The stubborn thirteen-year-old refused to be turned and stayed with his mother, even after Harland drove away angrily.

When the doctors discharged his mother, Joshua was shocked. They'd been in the ER for only eight hours; one-minute discussing emergency appendectomy surgery then the next asking her to get dressed to go home. He spoke confidently to the doctors, listening to them explaining what to do if she got worse and calling a cab company to get them home. She knew Joshua tried to reach Harland without success. Esme was too ill to fight the doctor's decision to leave agreeing it was for the best for lack of a different option, the medicines they gave her made her foggy but the anti-emetics lasted long enough to take a cab back home without vomiting in the backseat. Her son sat beside her, letting her head rest on his shoulder when she curled up. She wasn't sure how he got her up the stairs and into bed, but he took care of her when she was unable to care for herself.

Hours later, the medications wore off and she was worse than ever. The pain wasn't like anything she's experienced, and she couldn't keep anything down. Time seemed to slow, and the fog of pain was her only world. She wasn't even sure when Harland returned to pick up their son to go where she assumed was on their hunting trip.

She wasn't expecting Joshua to return, nor for him to bring a world-renowned doctor to their home. While she loved to entertain and would never turn away a visitor – in her current state, she was unable to welcome her guest. There was a part of her that wanted to ask him to leave – not wanting a stranger seeing her when she was weak, but Esme believed in signs from the Goddess. The fact that a doctor had been sent to her when she needed it was a sign that Dr. Ames was _meant_ to be there.

Mac had a strength about him. He had masculine energy that was entwined with a feminine nurturing side that couldn't be denied. It was fluid, balanced, making her feel cared for, safe, and protected. Esme could tell that Joshua felt it too – otherwise, Dr. Ames would have been refused entry into their enchanted home. He was unlike anyone she'd never met, and it piqued her curiosity.

Once she was back on her feet, she'd make it a point to get to know their guest better. It would be good to make another friend in the Brotherhood if only to gain additional protection for her son.\

* * *

Joshua was startled awake hearing unrecognizable voices – male voices – speaking from downstairs. He could tell the speakers were trying to keep quiet, but the house was old, and it echoed. He jerked out of bed and threw on the discarded clothing from the previous night before remembering that Dr. Ames was staying with them. There was no need to arm himself. He made his way down the stairs quietly, sneakily seeing Mac pass a man at the door a folded-up bill before he shut the behind the stranger.

Mac smiled once he caught sight of the teenager, "Good morning Joshua."

"Good morning," Joshua responded, before immediately asking, "What was that about?"

The doctor motioned to follow him, "I was tipping him". When Joshua entered his kitchen, his eyes widened; the countertop was filled with bags and two large boxes. The doctor's black medical bag was on the kitchen island. The kitchen itself was the same, his mother's plants hanging near the windows – glass bottles filled with herbs and teas on the shelves for her brews.

"What?" His hands waved over the stuff on the counter, "did you think we didn't have food or something? We do have a refrigerator."

He answered with an arch of his eyebrow, indicating that Joshua should open the bags. "See for yourself… by the way, do you have a cat?"

"A cat? No… why?" Joshua questioned the non sequitur– the guy was very strange. First, the doctor paid someone to go grocery shopping for him (which was unheard of), when asked about a cat.

"Um," Mac spoke embarrassed, his cheeks reddening into a blush, "when I opened the door for the courier, a black cat snuck inside. The last I saw; it went into your sunroom. I tried to find it, but it disappeared…" Joshua turned to look where Mac pointed. The room was brightly lit and filled with plants. It was his mother's favorite room. She loved to eat breakfast there and cuddle up with a book.

"So, what you're saying is that there's a cat in our house," Joshua said incredulously.

"I wasn't expecting it to just walk in…" Mac complained, "I tried to stop it."

Joshua laughed for several minutes. Every time he tried to stop, he'd catch the look on the older man's face, and it would set him off again.

"Alright, already!" Mac shook head at the teen. He went to the box and started peeling the tape off to open it.

Joshua couldn't keep the smile off his face while he opened the bag closest to him. The contents of the bag were not what he was expecting as he put the groceries on the counter. It seemed to be random – you couldn't really put them together to make a meal. Ginger, pineapple, parsley, cucumber, a couple of containers of chicken broth, and a bottle of cranberry juice. He looked at the doctor puzzled when the other bag contained two orange bottles of prescription medication. The third bag contained a weird-looking whoopie cushion-like item.

The doctor took the item from him, twisting off the cap – then went to the sink and turned the hot water to the max, waiting for it to heat up. He tested the temperature every few seconds, then put the mouth under the tap filling the container. Once it was filled, Mac put the cap back on.

He picked up a glass, then filled it with cold water. He cut pieces of the ginger and cucumber then dropped them into the glass. Mac found a small tray on the drying rack, then set the glass and the hot water bottle down on it. Finding the prescriptions, put the bottles on the tray.

"It's for your mom. Would you mind taking these up to her?" Mac passed the tray to Joshua. "She's to take one of each of the pills. The smaller pill she'll take every 4 hours and the larger is every 12 hours; it's an antibiotic that she'll take for 7 days. The smaller pill will also discolor her urine – it's normal; it'll help with the pain. The hot water bottle will help as well. If you need me to come up, just call for me."

Joshua held the tray, staring at the contents – then back at the doctor. The man was going above and beyond to the point of setting an entirely new bar. "I don't know how we're going to thank you for all of this, Dr. Ames."

"There's no need – and it's Mac, remember? I should be the one thanking you – you've saved me from a boring hotel room. Your home is quite beautiful. Maybe you can take me on that tour when you get back, I'd love to see the garden outside."

When he brought the tray up to his mother's room, he expected that his mom was doing better after the medication that Dr. Ames had given her. Joshua felt deep disappointment when she looked to be in the same pain as the night before with her arm covering her face. "Mom?"

His mother came out from behind her arm, giving him the barest of smiles. "Good morning sweetheart. How did you sleep?"

"I'm fine, Mom." He put the tray down on the nightstand next to her, then sat on the edge of the bed next to her. "How are you?"

"I feel a little better this morning. It's not as bad as it was yesterday, but I'm not quite up to running around just yet. What's that?" She pointed to the tray.

"Dr. Ames went shopping – or he called someone to go shopping for him and deliver it here at the crack of dawn. I am not even sure that he went to sleep. He said to drink the water and take one of each of these pills." He picked up the bottles and passed it to his mother.

She read the labels, then followed the instructions, read the warnings, and swallowed them. She blinked at the taste of the water. "Ginger?"

"Yes, and cucumber." His brow bunched in curiosity when his mother smiled to herself. "What's funny?"

Esme shook her head, still smiling. "I told him last night that I believed in natural remedies – then this morning he gives me ginger to settle my stomach. He's very thoughtful."

"Yeah," Joshua was still suspicious of the smiling, "I guess. He also got you this thing that he filled with water…" He pointed at the flattened plastic pouch.

She sat up, then took the warm bag – immediately placing it against her lower abdomen. She couldn't help the groan of relief. After a minute, she sat up in bed, pulling the pillows behind her back. "That helps…"

"Do you need anything else, Mom?"

"Maybe a couple of books, I could use a distraction."

Joshua got up and went into the guest room where there was a bookcase tucked into the nook. He knew that his mom stacked up the unread books into a pile on the second shelf. He pulled "Firestarter by Stephen King" and "The Last Enchantment by Mary Stewart". His mother was a big fan of the Merlin series that Stewart penned and had waited eagerly for the third installment that he'd gifted her for her birthday; Joshua personally thought his mother enjoyed knowing the _true_ story of the Arthurian legend of Merlin and comparing the stories to the imagination of the author. Of course, Stephen King was simply a pleasurable read. Joshua couldn't wait, devouring "Firestarter" as soon as it hit the bookstores but kept his promise not to spoil it for his mother until she got a chance to read it.

He brought the tomes to her, double-checked that she was alright, then went back down the stairs to fulfill his promise tour. On the way down, he caught sight of a black shadow and a pair of glowing eyes belaying it's hiding spot. There was a temptation to try and grab hold of it, but he knew the cat would come out when it was hungry. It would be better to wait it out.

When he reached the kitchen, he saw that the doctor looking outside towards the garden deep in thought.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, Mac?" Joshua asked politely, trying to be a good host in his mother's stead.

Mac turned and nodded, "A cup of coffee sounds like heaven right about now."

Joshua went about grabbing a mug, then filling the Mr. Coffee Maker with the filter and grinds needed to make a fresh pot of coffee. It would take a while to heat and brew. "While this is brewing, I can show you around the garden."

"I would love that, Joshua. I was just admiring it from the window," Mac commented following the teenager out the side door.

The garden was astounding to say the least. "Did your mother plant these or was it inherited by a previous owner?" Everywhere he looked, there was a different type of plant from trees, to shrubs, to perennial flowers to edible herbs. He recognized only a few species and scratched his head at the others.

"My mom planted them. I think she's got over eighty-five different types of plants growing. Most of them – they were passed down from my grandmother. Some of them have medicinal properties." Joshua noticed that he'd captured the doctor's attention – the man was _actually_ listening to him. "That's valerian, it aids sleep. That one is aloe vera – it has a few different uses, but most people use it on burns. Foxglove – I _think_ that one is for heart problems. Eucalyptus for colds. Lavender for calming. Licorice and peppermint for stomach aches. If you combine the lavender with hemp, two bones from a chicken foot, and an unbroken spider egg, you can use it to make a hex bag…" He trailed off feeling as if he overstepped by revealing a witch's curse, as the nearer the fountain. "The fountain was already there when we bought the house. It used to be the only thing back here."

"You seem very knowledgeable about herbology," Mac spoke encouragingly. "If you would be in agreement, perhaps we could use our time together as an opportunity for mutual exchange."

"What do you mean?" Joshua slowed until he was facing the doctor.

Mac was careful not to sound as if it were a demand, instead softly explaining so that the boy could make his own decision. "You know that I was originally sent here to train with your father and his colleagues. I'm new to the Brotherhood; heck, I'm new to pretty much everything related to the supernatural. You were born into this life and know more than I do about the subject. I was brought into this world by accident. A veil was lifted and now, I realize there is more in this world than I ever thought was real." He paused, letting the teenager absorb what he was saying before continuing. "I'm proposing a trade-in knowledge – I'll teach you what I know about emergency medicine if you could teach me what you know of hunting and herbology."

"You want to learn from _me_?" Joshua sounded confused, rubbing his chin.

"Only if you want to teach me. I don't want you to feel obligated; I'm willing to teach you either way if you are interested."

Straightening, Joshua spoke, "Would it help in a hunt?"

"Yes. I can teach you a bit of field medicine… in case someone gets hurt during a hunt. It's an invaluable skill not just in the Brotherhood, but for day-to-day emergencies."

"Then yes," Joshua held out his hand in agreement, smiling when the older man shook it. "I agree with your proposal for mutual knowledge exchange."

* * *

Esme had been resting in bed for a few hours, occasionally slipping her eyes closed, but mostly reading to take her mind off the pain. Thankfully, the pain was medium to low, the higher peaks beaten down by the medications she was taking. She slowly climbed out of bed to use the bathroom – the neon orange color shocked her before she remembered that the medication bottle warning. She flushed, washed her hands, and then decided that she was feeling well enough to risk checking on the men downstairs.

She carefully went down the stairs, pausing in between steps when her abdomen complained about the movement. From the staircase, she heard voices from the living room.

"This is harder than it looks, Mac," Joshua whined.

"You just need to practice. Start with two fingers and press gently. You might have to shift your fingertips until you can feel it throbbing."

Esme's eyes widened and her heart caught in her throat at the implication. The adrenaline masked the pain and made her fly down the rest of the steps towards the living room. As she rounded the corner, she caught sight of her son sitting on the floor in front of the doctor. There were medical supplies littered all over the coffee table, the black medical bag on the floor next to her son. Her beautiful boy was sitting across from the older man, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he pressed on the doctor's wrist. Mac's eyes were sparkling as if he was trying not to laugh.

"It's about a millimeter to the center," Mac lectured, "under the thumb and the edge of the bone."

"Okay, I found it!" Joshua exclaimed in excitement.

"Now, you count the number of beats that you can feel for 15 seconds using your watch to measure the passing of time." They both sat quietly for 15 seconds, her son taking the doctor's pulse.

"It's about 20," Joshua reported.

"Is it _about_ 20 or exactly 20?" Mac was a stickler for accuracy.

"Exactly 20."

"Now, you take that number and multiple it by 4 to get beats per minute."

Her son was slow to answer but said "80?".

"Yes. It's 80 beats per minute. So, is it normal?" Mac asked.

"It's between 60 to 90, so yes, it's normal."

"Well, I'm glad about that – I certainly didn't want to spend the day in the hospital because of a heart condition! Great job. You figured it out – now, just a matter of practice and you'll find it right away next time. Might want to work on your 4x multiplication table as well. You want to know it without having to think. If you're in an emergency situation, your ability to do math will be severely compromised. Your brain goes into fight or flight mode – you need to know exactly what to do to override the panic."

Joshua nodded, then grabbed a pen to write down a note on the piece of paper beside him.

Esme was ashamed for her irrational thought, but she forgave herself for the _unseen_ motherly overreaction. She cleared her throat, capturing the attention of the two students on the floor.

"Mom!" Joshua jumped up off the floor like the thirteen-year-old that he was while Mac was a bit slower at getting to his feet. "How are you?"

Esme let her son guide her to the couch where she sat down beside him. "What are both of you up to? It looks like a hospital supply closet in here." She smiled at them both to soften the complaint.

For the first time since the divorce, her son was animated and full of passion. "Mac and I are teaching each other important hunting tips. I taught Mac about the uses of holy water, rock salt, and silver. He's going to start carrying them with him in his medical bag. I also taught him about a few herbal remedies. In exchange, he's teaching me what to do in a medical emergency. I learned how to take a temperature, check a pulse, and test blood glucose. Mac said he's going to teach me how to pack a field medical kit that I can carry in my backpack when I go out with Dad on a hunt. He's also going to teach me the more advanced stuff like resuscitation and stopping a bleed once I master the basics."

"That's amazing, Joshua. And very kind, Mac." Esme smiled at the man patiently tutoring her son.

Mac was standing in front of the coffee table, "It's not kindness, Esme. I'm an opportunist – your son has taught me more about preventative measures against supernatural entities in the last couple of hours than weeks listening to Ms. Mosley. He's saved me from needing additional training with her. She's a good person, but our personalities tend to clash. It's my being entirely selfish in wanting to avoid her."

Esme laughed, then grabbed at her belly when the laughter sparked the pain. "Missouri Mosley is the type of person who helps develop personal growth."

They all laughed in agreement with that statement. Esme stood up, patting her son on the shoulder. "I'm going to make us something to eat. You two continue your class."

She entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, a few new items were stacked in the front – like cranberry juice, a pineapple, and a couple of boxes of broth. The cranberry juice she understood to help flush out a U.T.I. and the broth would be kinder on her stomach. The pineapple though – that she was unsure of. Esme picked up the package of eggs – while it was nearing lunch, she was sure neither hadn't eaten breakfast outside of coffee from the single mug and glass carafe in the drying rack. The eggs would be easier for her to manage with her feeling so poorly.

She had to take a breath when she reached for the pan in the bottom cabinet, resting her head on her arms edging the counter. The only thing holding her up was the countertop. She was in a ball of misery, not paying attention to anything around her until something cold and wet licked her fingers.

Esme lifted her head slowly to see a black cat on her counter, nudging her hands begging to be petted. "Where did you come from?" At that moment, she lacked the energy to give it anything but the barest of rubs before curling back over the counter. The cat seemed to be offended by the lack of attention and jumped away from her.

She felt a hand against her back; it was warm and reassuring. Another hand supported her elbow. "How about you sit down at the table and I whip up some breakfast for us? For now, let's both forget social conventions and focus on getting you back on your feet. It's slow going, but it'll get better in a few days." Mac soothed, pulling her away from the counter and leading her to the closest kitchen chair.

Esme sat down with a groan, resting her head on the tabletop with her arms wrapped around her belly, surprised at his offer. Harland would have never stooped so low to cook his family breakfast; it was a 'woman's job'. It was difficult to stop comparing this man to her ex-husband. Richard had been her first love and had been an incredibly jealous man. At the time, she thought it was romantic that she wasn't 'allowed' a male friend and that her husband only wanted her to himself. Looking back on it, it was controlling and a double-standard that he inflicted on her that she refused to uphold any longer. Smiling at Mac, she allowed herself to fantasize about what could be. "Only if you promise to forget about how I nearly threw up on you."

She couldn't see his expression, but she heard his teasing response. "Oh, I've already blocked that from my memory along with the other times that I've been vomited on. It was a prerequisite of my hospital rotation to get thrown upon at least once a week. There was this one time –" The ringing of the phone cut off the rest of the story. "Would you like me to pick that up for you?"

"Please." Esme agreed.

"Madrigal residence. Can I take a message?" Mac promptly answered within the next ring.

"Oh, hello Daryl." Esme lifted her head to stare at the doctor. He apparently knew the caller; she could only hear his part of the conversation. "What were the results? That's good – glad to see some improvement. Did you speak to the Director like I asked? What was his response? I'm glad we could come to a consensus on the subject. And the costs? Wonderful. Daryl, I appreciate the time and your help with all of this. Thank you for sending the courier. I'll make sure I put them to good use. Golf? Yeah, I'd love to join you. Perhaps the weekend before I head back home? Sounds good. I'll call you on Friday to confirm the details. Goodbye."

Mac hung up the phone and turned towards his patient. "That was the hospital. I called an old friend of mine last night to send a courier to pick up the vials I had on ice and send them to a lab to run tests on your blood work last night. Happy news, your white blood cells show a decrease from when you were admitted and that was even _before_ I started you on antibiotics. You're well on your way to bounce back."

"Mackland," Esme started, "I might be ill, but I'm not dumb. You mentioned something about costs – I hope you didn't pay for my ER visit... I do have insurance."

Mac smirked, sitting down at the table across from her. "I promise that I didn't pay. _But_ , I did speak to a few higher-ups about the negligence in your case and they decided that they would waive their customary doctors and lab charges. They won't send you a bill for their _lack_ of service."

"Their _negligence_?"

"They sent you home without examining you nor providing you with a diagnosis, take-home medications, or discharge instructions. All it took was a ten-minute physical exam to diagnose you… the Director of the hospital agreed with me that it wasn't acceptable. Hopefully, they'll learn from this mistake and make sure that it doesn't happen anyone else."

Esme sat back in the chair, "You did all of that? For me?"

Mac stood up, smirking as his only answer. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving." He went to the stove, lit the burner, then went about frying a few eggs. "You like them scrambled? Or sunny side up?"

"Scrambled for me. Joshua likes sunny side up if you're taking orders."

"I can do that. Do you have a toaster? I'll heat up some toast with butter. If you have any potatoes, I can grill up some hash."

"They are in the pantry – the door to the right over there. By the way, did you bring your cat with you?"

She could see the man's neck turn red, "It's an embarrassing story – but when the deliveries arrived, the cat snuck in. It's not mine. I tried to catch it, but it ran away from me. Sorry! I can call animal protection services if you want it gone."

"No. There's no need for that. She's welcome here."

"She? It's female?"

"Yes. I think I'll call her Isis."

"She was a goddess in Egyptian mythology, right?"

"Yes, she protected women and children. I believe she also healed the sick. She had great magic – they say that she could even cast spells to enslave men."

"You sound like you admire her."

"I do. I always admire those who find balance in their power. Her strength was tempered by nurturing – her fidelity and protectiveness bolstering her family. It was believed she was the most powerful sorceress in the universe."

The eggs were cooked in short order and the hash browns were golden, Mac sliding them onto a platter. "Joshua," Mac called out loudly to the living room, "breakfast is ready if you can please help me set the table."

Joshua came in from the living room blinking at the fuzzy domestic display, frowning at the doctor. He walked over next to his mother, who looked like she was falling asleep at the table if it weren't for the deep lines across her face betraying her normally peaceful demeanor. The table was bare but for a few plates of food. A plate was slid in front of his chair, blinking, he smiled at the sunny-side-up eggs being served to him. "Thanks, Dr. Ames."

"You're welcome, Joshua. Perhaps you can help me find the glasses and pour some juice. There should be a jug of ginger water in the refrigerator for Esme." The doctor placed the plate of toast and fried potatoes on the table, before continuing "it will help settle your stomach." Joshua nodded, then did as he was requested without arguing as he usually did when asked to do an unwanted chore.

His mother lifted her head when her plate and drink were served by the two boys determined to care for her. "Joshua, you should fill a bowl with water and leave it out for Isis. She's probably thirsty. That's probably why she was in the kitchen – looking for food and water."

That made Joshua freeze. "Wait, does the fact that you named the cat mean that we can keep it?"

Esme smiled, a hint of mystery in her eyes, "Yes, as long as she's happy to stay with us, and as long as we need her." She didn't speak the words aloud, but her mother often quoted cats appeared to meet the needs of the lonely. Perhaps Isis would be her son's confidant and companion outside of the Brotherhood ties. She shifted in her chair, trying to sit up straight so she could try to enjoy the meal.

Joshua placed the water bowl on the floor next to the counter, the ledge extended enough to keep them from tripping on it when they walked past. The cat would be able to step up on the perch to drink from the bowl when it chose to.

"Maybe we could pick up some cat food this afternoon, Mac?" Joshua timidly requested, clearly afraid that the older man would deny him. He placed forks at the table in front of each plate, then tucked a napkin on the side.

"It sounds like a plan, Joshua. While we are at the store, we can pick up anything else you might need for the house or your new field kit. Just write up a list." Mac sat down across from Esme, while Joshua sat in his usual chair next to his mother. Joshua squirmed uncomfortably – the doctor was in what had been his father's place at the table just staring at his mother, waiting for their meal to begin like a proper guest.

Joshua took his mother's hand, then hesitantly reached out for Mac. He took the teen's hand, curiosity shining in his eyes. "We usually say a blessing before we eat…" Esme reached out her hand to Mac as well, completing their small circle.

His mother raised her head, then spoke the benediction for them all. "Blessed be the Earth who gives to us this food. Blessed be the Sun who makes it ripe and good. Dear Earth, Dear sun by you we live. Our loving thanks, to you we give. Blessings on our meal, our family, _our new friend_ , and our world. Blessed Be."

"That was lovely," Mac commented. "It's Wiccan, isn't it?"

Esme nodded, "Yes. Both Joshua and I are practitioners in the art of witchcraft. We don't belong to a coven, so we focus our craft on helping the members of the community we live in and, of course, our family." She nodded at the food, "Please help yourself."

Mac picked up his fork, then started on his eggs and potatoes. "What do you do for a living, Esme?"

"I'm a shop owner. I mostly sell non-chemical all-natural beauty products and lotions of my own formula, but I've expanded the line recently. I'm introducing handmade scented candles, crystals, teas, and other small gifts. Thankfully, I hired a young lady to run the register for me last month – she's covering for me while I'm out sick. The lotions are incredibly popular, they're being carried in the middle-to-high end department stores now."

"That's very impressive. What's the line called?"

"Luna," Esme answered. "And thank you." She could tell from his tone that he meant it, nor did he finish the sentence with 'impressive for a woman' as Harland would have. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she did her best to put her ex-husband from her mind to focus on their new friend. She picked at her eggs, nausea keeping her from eating no matter how hungry she felt.

The doctor noticed straight away, softly suggesting "why don't you drink some water? Might help settle your stomach…"

She sipped at the cold drink, breathing deeply to keep from purging what little she ate. The pain was ramping back up and she curled into her chair.

"Do you want to go back to bed, Mom?"

"I think I'll lie down on the couch. Darling, would you mind grabbing my book and refilling the water bottle for me after you've finished eating?" Esme stood half-way, crouched over, and shuffling to the living room. "Both of you – stay and enjoy your breakfast."

Joshua ignored her, following her until she was safely settled on the couch and curled into a ball on her side. He grabbed the water bottle for her from her bedroom, then covered her with the throw blanket before heading back to finish his breakfast with the doctor.

Mac cleaned up the kitchen in quick order after he and Joshua gobbled their meal, washing the pans and their used dishes allowing the family to get settled in without his interference. The black cat, Isis, caught his eyes. She had strolled into the kitchen warily and made her way to the bowl of water Joshua put out for her. Mac inched his way towards her, seeing if she'd run away as he approached. She seemed to feel safe and allowed him to gently pet her as she drank.

After a short time, he made his way to the living room. Esme was clearly uncomfortable on the couch, Joshua elsewhere. Mac sat on the chair across from the couch, feeling a bit helpless in his inability to instantly take the pain away. "If you can wait another hour, you can take the pain medication a little early to keep the effects from wearing off."

Joshua came down the stairs, the sounds as if a herd of animals approaching in his hurry. He handed the book to his mother, then placed a cup of ginger water on the armrest beside her. "Do you need anything else, Mom?"

"Perhaps you can show our guest our library? He might enjoy learning some history while you finish up packing your new field kit." She arched her eyebrow at the slew of medical items still littered across the room.

Joshua nodded, then gestured for the doctor to follow him to their den. It was decorated to be an office slash library with a fireplace as the focal point. Joshua went over to the bookshelf, then grabbed the edge. He pulled it and with amazement, a secret room was revealed with more shelving inside.

"It's not as big as Pastor Jim's but it holds our most important grimoires and journals." Joshua selected his grandfather's oldest journal and handed it to the doctor. "I figured you would want to start at the beginning… that's the first Knight's journal of Maxim Madrigal, my Grandfather."

Mac took it reverently, "Thank you, Joshua. It's an honor that you'd trust me with it. Let's get back to packing before your mom gets antsy about the mess."

"Hehehe. She's already annoyed at it."

With a light slap the boy's shoulder, Mac laughed, "I could tell. Let's finish packing up your supplies."

The rest of the afternoon was filled with comfortable conversation, running errands like purchasing cat supplies and checking in on Esme from time-to-time. She spent most of the time lying down, either sleeping or reading. To spice things up, she'd rest in different rooms from the living room to the sunroom as well as the swing in the garden – spending equal time in the bathroom. By the end, she needed Mac's help to get up the stairs and to her bed, embarrassed that a small microbe was wreaking havoc on her body.

Joshua's grandmother called while Esme was sleeping, worried about her daughter when she didn't call at her usual time. Jocelyn Madrigal ended up speaking to her grandson and then to Dr. Ames, much to his astonishment. Mackland hadn't laughed as much in years as he had speaking to the matriarch of the family. She had a sarcastic streak that matched his own. Joshua rolled his eyes at his Grandmother's attempts at flirtation, knowing her well enough to know it was something she did to keep herself entertained.

Jocelyn offered to come and help care for her daughter, but Mac was able to assuage her by promising that he wasn't going to leave until Esme was well. She asked for Joshua, spoke to him for a short time until he was giggling uncontrollably. They hung up with their usual 'I love you.'

The doctor felt the boy took too much on his shoulders. It was the summer – he should be outside skateboarding or playing basketball with his friends instead of sitting vigil nervously. He mentioned it off-handed, while both sat at the kitchen counter on stools after hanging up the telephone. "Joshua, if you want to spend time with your friends – I'll hold down the fort for a few hours."

"No, it's okay. My friends are with my Dad, hunting right now anyway." He said it with a longing but looked towards the staircase to where his mother slept uneasily.

Taking the opportunity, Mac shifted the conversation, "Your friends are in the Brotherhood?"

Shaking his head, "Not yet – usually, we get our rings when we turn 21. But, we're all training together. It works that way, you know. Especially if you're legacy. The older hunters will usually pick the less complicated missions to take trainees with them. Most of the time, we end up doing the research until our physical skills are on par to take on the monsters we hunt."

"At what age do you usually start training?" Mac questioned, suddenly feeling inadequate. A child had more knowledge than he did – and he didn't like it. He was used to being the smartest one in the room; but, after his brain injury and his newfound psychic powers, there was an entirely new world to learn about.

"Um… I don't know maybe 8 or so. Once we started to understand the world around us… I think I've always known about it, personally. I remember that the kids in Kindergarten were excited about Santa Claus and I got into trouble telling them the current Christmas traditions originated from pagan rituals. My teacher called my parents – she said I was in trouble. My parents didn't punish me. Instead, they taught me to tell non-hunters what they wanted to hear. I got pretty good at it, actually… I've won several debates in class."

Rocking his head, Mac tried to understand, but couldn't picture a parent teaching a child about the supernatural while they were still in diapers. He was struggling to understand it and he was an adult in the prime of his life. "Was this because your Grandfather was the Knight?"

"Yeah, my dad wants me to learn as much as I can so I can be ready to take my place in the Brotherhood." Joshua confirmed, "I mean, I know my Dad is working extra hard to be up for the role of Knight; he says he dreams of being able to pass the role to me, but I don't know... Daniel Elkins is holding the position temporarily until the official Knight is chosen. Victor Stephens is still the Scholar, at least until he retires. The future Knight and Scholar will be chosen by the new Guardian." Joshua went to the fridge and pulled them out a couple of Coca-Cola bottles. He popped the caps, then passed one to the doctor.

"The new Guardian? Who's up for that? Do you know?" Mac took a sip of the cold drink, curious to the rumors he was unacquainted with.

Joshua shrugged, "My mom thinks Pastor Jim will become the new Guardian. My dad thinks it will be Dr. Griffin Porter. My mom is usually right about these things… she hears things that the others wouldn't because the Brotherhood respects her position in the family."

"Jim? Truly?" Mac questioned. Pastor James Murphy as the leader of the Brotherhood filled his heart with hope. Jim would be someone he would follow to the ends of the Earth for, unlike Harland Sawyer.

"I think so… We'll find out soon enough, I suppose. You're friends with him, right?" Joshua asked.

"Yes, Jim is becoming a very good friend to me. He was one of the first people that I met after I discovered my talents." Mac became solemn, "I got into a car accident a couple of years ago. It was bad – I had been in a coma and the doctors diagnosed me with a brain injury. I wasn't expected to awaken, but I did and when I did, I acquired psychic abilities. Psychometry and telekinesis for the most part. I've only met one person – Missouri Mosley – who's mind I can read and vice versa, so there's a bit of telepathy involved with the psychically inclined, I believe. Missouri was the one who helped me through those first few months exploring the supernatural. I learned from her, though I wouldn't say that I enjoyed the process. I believe she thought the same as me – so she introduced me to Jim Murphy; she washed her hands of me and asked him to teach me what she couldn't. Jim and I – we were able to form a friendship in our Brotherhood. Jim would make a good leader..."

"He's nice – like you are. Pastor Jim doesn't play mind games or just tell you what you want to hear. He's honest."

"That he is. If he's selected, what do you think of your father becoming the Knight?"

"My dad would be really happy." Joshua murmured, taking a sip of his drink to mask the sudden shift in mood ineffectively. "He'd get what he always wanted." The last was nearly whisper-quiet as if he were talking to himself. "I don't know – it's between my Dad and Bobby Singer unless the Guardian chooses someone else."

Mac immediately noticed the boy's despondent reply – mentally noting that bringing up his father in conversation was a trigger and promising himself that he'd avoid it in the future, if possible. "Are you hungry? I can grill us up some burgers..." He changed the subject, hoping to right his wrongs.

Joshua perked up at that, "I'd love that, but I don't think Mom will eat it…"

"I assumed that. I was planning to heat up some broth for her while we enjoy the burgers. Does that sound like a good plan?"

Before they could agree, a ring at the door startled them both. Joshua jumped up to go to the door, looking through the peephole and seeing a familiar face. He threw the door open. "Ian, what are you doing here? I thought you were hunting with my Dad?"

Joshua was shocked to see Ian Hastings at his front door. He didn't know that Ian even knew where he lived after they moved to Richmond. He'd been disappointed – none of his hunter friends had even offered to help his family with the move. For several weeks, they ostracized him; refusing to call him back nor include him in their plans – as if it was his fault that he couldn't keep his family from breaking apart for the good of the Brotherhood. Pastor Jim was the only one who supported him outside of his mother and now, Dr. Ames.

"I told Harland I'd drive by to pick you up for the hunt. Grab your stuff, Joshua. We're burning daylight."

"Ian, I'm not going. I'm staying here with my Mom. I told my Dad that! She's sick."

Ian looked at him with disgust. "You're seriously going to turn down a hunt because your mom is sick? I thought that the new guy was taking care of her… Your Dad was worked up about him coming _here_. Said Ames made him look like a fool. I would have _paid_ to see that."

" _Doctor_ Ames is here, and he didn't –" His defense of the man was interrupted when Mac walked up behind him from his hidden position near the alcove. Joshua just hoped that Mac didn't hear what Ian had said a moment before.

"Hello," Mac said pleasantly, smiling. At least on the outside, there was no indication he'd heard the slight. The teenager at the door was a couple of years older than Joshua due to his ability to drive, he had a sharp jawline, slightly tanned skin, and long brown hair that covered his eyes. It was the typical teenage boy trend complete with a leather jacket, black t-shirt, and jeans. Anyone walking past the kid on the street would feel safe – unlike the punk-rockers who prowled in New York. Mac wished he could believe the stereotypical vibe, but there was something dangerous about the boy that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Instinctually, he felt more comfortable around the punks than the boy smirking in front of him.

Joshua ran through introductions, "Dr. Mackland Ames, this is my friend, Ian Hastings. Ian this is Dr. Ames. Ian is training to be a hunter too. Ian, I think you know that Dr. Ames is the newest member of the Brotherhood."

The two shook hands, Ian putting on a mask of respect that he often presented the older hunters. Joshua knew his friend better than that. He was a completely different person when they were alone together.

"I'm very glad to meet you, Ian. I was just about to grill up some burgers – I can throw in a couple extra if you'd like to stay and join us." Mac offered congenially, relaxing. The fact that Hastings was a novice hunter somewhat reassured him; it was most likely the source of the aura of danger.

"No, thank you." Ian returned as graciously. "Harland asked me to come and pick up Joshua. We need to head out so we can make it to the hunt by nightfall."

Mac rubbed his lips, his brow furrowing in confusion – up until this very moment, he didn't think wild horses would tear the boy away from his ailing mother. But, staring at Joshua's expression, it was clear that his loyalties were being torn. Mac chose not to introduce his opinion on what was a request by the boy's father. "I'll leave you boys to talk while I fire up the grill. Joshua, let me know what you decide."

Ian waited until the doctor was out of earshot before rounding on his friend. "You let Dr. Ames walk around your house like he owns it? Are you that desperate for a Daddy at home?"

That statement packed the emotional equivalent of a sucker punch, knocking the breath from Joshua. His friend could be ruthless with his opinions; over the years, they'd gotten into several friendship-ending arguments, but always ended up forgiving each other. It was just the way they operated – no holds barred. "What? What do you mean?"

Ian sneered at him. "Dr. Ames's been here what – a day? And now, what? He's grilling? He's 'taking care' of your Mom? Either he's moving in on your Mom or he's a fucking fairy."

"He's not – Mac was helping because I asked him to," Joshua argued. His face turned bright red at both implications. The doctor was nothing but professional, if not overly respectful, around him and his mother. He spent more time speaking with Dr. Ames than he did his own father over the last day; not for lack of trying – his father wouldn't listen to him or discuss anything outside of his ambitious plan to become the Knight. "Not everyone has an agenda, Ian."

"How stupid _are_ you?" Hastings fought back, his arms waving in emphasis. "Everyone has an agenda. He wants something – probably your mom."

"He's a _doctor_ and I'm watching him – he's _not_ making moves on my mother!" His voice was getting louder subconsciously.

"Then he's gay! Your mom is hot, rich, and the daughter of the Knight – anyone in the Brotherhood with half a brain would try and seduce her."

Joshua pushed his friend hard, fed up, ignoring the clatter of the glass vases and bowls against the hall table as Ian collided into it. "Shut up! That's my mom you're talking about!"

Ian recognized he'd crossed a line and put his hands up in surrender. "Fine – it's your house. You deal with Ames sniffing around. We can argue about it in the car – we have to go!"

"I told you – "

"- You're not coming." Ian shook his head – scornfully continuing, "You're a coward, Sawyer. You're just going to let those people die because your mommy is sick. What's wrong with you lately? We're hunters – our jobs keep people from getting killed. But, you'd rather sit here and play house. Maybe your Dad was right about you… maybe you can't hack being a hunter."

His resolve for staying with his mother was failing and Ian knew he hit the nail on the head when his friend looked stricken at his words. Joshua's face fell, whispering in his shame, "I don't want anyone to die…"

Gesturing at the door, Ian softened his command, "Well, then, go grab your bags and tell your _mommy_ that you're leaving." There was no need to continue the hostility, he'd won, and Harland would reward him by allowing him to train with Dr. Griffin Porter, as was agreed if he could get Joshua to come along.

"I gotta tell _both_ my Mom and Dr. Ames that we're taking off. Be right back." Joshua walked up the stairs and knocked on his mother's bedroom door.

"Mom?" Esme was getting dressed, not lying down as Joshua had assumed. She looked still in pain, clutching her side as she was trying to button up a pair of jeans. Her face was pale and she was swallowing as if she were about to throw up, but even so – she _was_ getting better compared to the night before now that she was taking the correct medication.

"Joshua, what's wrong? Did I hear shouting – was that Dr. Ames? I was just getting dressed so that I can ask him to leave. I won't allow anyone to treat you like that. Him staying here isn't going to work out." Her voice was panicked, afraid that she'd misjudged the man she'd allowed around her son.

Joshua's mouth flew open – "No, Mom. It wasn't Dr. Ames. It was me – I was just arguing with Ian. He came to pick me up…" The teen was shocked that his mom jumped to the wrong conclusion; she _never_ did that – preferring to see the good in the people she met.

Esme looked surprised, "Your - Your friend, Ian Hastings? He's here?" She sat herself down at the side of the bed, the struggle with the jeans on hold as she apprehensively listened to her son.

"Yes. Mom," Joshua looked anxious and guilty, "he came to pick me up to go to the hunt. And, I think I should go with him since Dr. Ames is helping you. If I want to be a hunter, I must put other people's lives above my own selfish desires. I wanted to be here with you because I wanted to be the one that takes care of you – I forgot about the victims that will be butchered during tomorrow's full moon."

Not responding for a few seconds, she considered her son's declaration, trying to decouple his words from the rhetoric Harland spouted that was influencing both teenagers' views. "Honey, that is a very black and white statement to make. We both know that the world is gray – there is no 'perfect' response, nor a requirement that says you must sacrifice your life to save every person in this world. It's an impossible standard that you'll never be able to meet. I think you need to follow your heart and do what you feel is best. You know that I won't stop you from being with your father if that's what you choose."

Joshua hugged his mom, "I love you. I don't _want_ to leave – but knowing that it's an infection and that you're going to be okay with Dr. Ames here… it changes things." Mac _was_ taking care of his mother – he was cooking for her, bringing her heating pads, and medically treating her. In comparison, all Joshua was doing was being a gopher.

"Then, please be safe. Be smart and kind." Esme kissed the top of her son's head, knowing he was making a mistake and allowing him to make it without objection. He was only thirteen and had the weight of legacy on his shoulders from the time he was born. He deserved to make a 'safe' mistake that he would learn from in the future.

Joshua smiled faintly, guilt still in eyes and echoing in his voice, "I will. I'll get the chance to take my new medical field kit with me."

"I hope you never have to use it, Joshua." With one last hug, she let her baby fly away.

Before he walked out of the room, he turned back to her with big eyes. "You'll be okay, won't you Mom?"

Sitting up confidently, she nodded, "In a few more days, I'll be back to normal. You don't need to worry about me. I worry about you. That's my job as a mother."

He looked back once more, then gently closed the door behind her to go pack his bags.

* * *

There weren't many opportunities to grill in New York. His schedule was usually filled to the brim and his apartment, while spacious and elegant, lacked a grill in the balcony due to fire concerns. The scent of the coal was comforting – bringing memories of his father grilling hot dogs and steaks for them in his youth.

Mac heard loud voices from inside of the house as the boys fought – every ounce of his being wanted to go in there and ask Hastings to leave, but it wasn't his home, nor his child to interfere. He let the flames crackle before covering the top to let the temperature rise, sitting back on one of the patio chairs near the grill gritting his teeth.

He was glad to note that the shouting had stopped and was debating returning inside after the temperature of the grill reach the optimum heat to ask Joshua if he should add in a few extra burgers. He decided to be patient and let the teenager come to him for the sake of establishing trust in his decisions.

Joshua came outside dressed differently, now wearing camouflage pants and a dark green t-shirt instead of his khaki pants and a polo shirt. Without a word spoken, Mackland knew that the boy was leaving to go on the hunt. The doctor schooled his expression to keep the disappointment from showing.

"Dr. Ames," Joshua stated, "I'm going to head out with Ian. We'll be in Wolf Trap for about two weeks. There's a full moon tomorrow night; the hunters were planning to take out a werewolf pack. After the hunt, we're planning to train with Dr. Porter."

Mac nodded grimly, unable to keep the sarcasm suppressed, "I guess I'll eat your burgers, then. Unless you'd like to take them to go? I'll only need about 5 more minutes." The fact that the boy was obviously manipulated by both his father and his so-called friend angered Mackland. There was a big part of him that wanted to shake some sense into the boy – the approval that he was seeking wouldn't be granted; it wasn't in Harland's nature to be satisfied with anything but total power. However, there was no way that he could speak those words at this juncture of their relationship, nor to a child; they were practically strangers - medical field training aside.

Joshua looked bothered by the snark, "No, thank you. Ian and I will grab a bite on the road."

"Okay." Mackland stood up and held out his hand to the teenager, "I'll probably head home in about a week or so after your mother is fully recovered. So, I suppose this is goodbye for now. I've enjoyed our time together. You have my card and I invite you to call me anytime. I'll always be there to help – or _talk_."

"Thank you, Mac. For everything." Joshua clasped his hand tightly, then gave him a quick one-armed hug, pulling away before Mac could return the embrace. "Take care of my Mom, will you?"

"I will. I promised, didn't I?" He spoke the words passionately – wanting to make sure the boy knew his intentions were true.

"You did. And you kept your promise. I'll _never_ forget that, Mac." Joshua spoke earnestly.

"Be safe and happy hunting, Joshua."

With that, he silently watched Joshua walk away, waiting until he heard the car pull away from the driveway before going into the kitchen to grab the grocery bag with the ingredients needed for Dinner. He pulled out the package of beef to throw a few burgers on the grill. The sizzle and smell of cooking meat was comforting. It didn't take too long to finish cooking the patties, flipping them over and lining up the grill marks for an aesthetically pleasing design.

As he was plating the cooked burgers, Esme came outside and walked towards him. Mac gave her a sympathetic smile acknowledging the sudden turn of events. "So, I guess it's just you and me."

Esme eased herself onto one of the chairs of the small patio bistro table and gestured to the chair across from her. The table had a package of hamburger buns, ketchup, mustard, and a bag of chips already setup for the meal. She waved a 'no' when the doctor held up the plate. "I'm afraid my stomach isn't quite ready for a fattening meal just yet. I'll stick with liquids for today but thank you for offering."

"I guessed you would say that but since I'd made enough for two people, figured I'd take a chance in asking you. I'll put them in the fridge for tomorrow – hopefully, by then you'll be able to enjoy it."

Esme suddenly reached out a hand to Mac and covered his with her own. "Thank you for being kind to my son," she spoke softly. "He's been through the wringer lately." She put her hand back on her belly, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to relax. While the pain wasn't as sharp as it had been, it was still severe enough to keep her from her usual activities.

Mac arched an eyebrow at the understatement, "It seems you both have been put through the wringer lately." He spoke while putting the toppings on his bun. "Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but it seems like your ex-husband manipulated your son into going on this hunt through peer pressure. By your demeanor, this isn't the first time that it's happened."

The sound of the fountain was soothing and the scents of the flowers gentle on the senses. Esme was safe at home, with a man who cared about her and felt comfortable enough to speak with honestly. "It's fairly common – Harland has the ability to twist things in his favor. I dislike speaking negatively about him to Joshua. I know that if I am patient enough, Joshua will see his father for the person he is. I just pray that my son doesn't get hurt in the process."

"You're a good mother for allowing him to make those kinds of mistakes. I'm sure he'll learn." While Mac knew practically nothing about parenting, he had studied childhood developmental milestones for his psychology minor. A bit of rebelliousness was natural at his age; ultimately, he seemed like a good kid who put his family first.

"He's a teenager – the best way to teach him is through experience. I can't coddle him; I know the evils in this world and keeping him locked away won't protect him knowing his future is in the Brotherhood. He needs to be able to make difficult decisions – even those involving Harland. I also promised myself after the divorce that I wouldn't do anything to prevent him from spending time with his father if he chooses." Esme ran a hand down her messy hair and pulled at a tangle until her finger was free. She'd rushed getting dressed and didn't bother with her hair, coming outside to speak to Mackland as they were both abandoned by her son.

Mackland put his burger together on a plate, then motioned towards the kitchen. "I'll warm you up a bowl of broth – if you'd like?" When she smiled a yes, he stepped away and returned less than 10 minutes later with a tray for her. The tray held utensils, a bowl of chicken broth, a glass of ginger water, and enough pineapple slices for both of them to enjoy as dessert.

"Will you tell me about Harland? How did you meet?" Mac questioned as he put the tray in front of her. He would be working with the man frequently and other than knowing that he was obsessed with attaining a coveted position within the Brotherhood, he knew nothing about the man's history.

While she usually wasn't emotionally open with men, she was filled with a sudden desire to vent her frustrations. "I met him when I was just a few years older than my son is now. He was my first serious boyfriend and we got married right out of high school. I fought both of my parents to do it; they let me make my own mistakes… He made me feel desired and special. I got pregnant almost immediately, so we didn't have much time as newlyweds before we became parents. He was so happy when I'd delivered him a son – at the time, I didn't think anything of it. I thought it was natural for a man to want a son, but things started changing. He started getting a bit more ambitious climbing the corporate ladder. The more successful he became at work, the more he treated me with derision as if I were merely a pretty bimbo on his arm. His career was thriving, but as a _Hunter_ , his skills were below average – he messed up intel frequently enough that there were people assigned to verify his reports. My father told me in confidence that Harland's leadership qualities were nonexistent (ultimately no one wanted to follow him) – and if he continued his selfishness, he'd never advance in the Brotherhood. I tried to advise him - to teach him the skills that my father wanted to see in him but was ridiculed at every turn. Instead, Harland tried to ingratiate my father in attempts to win the successor position, but my father saw through him and denied him at every turn."

"Which enraged him further," Mac finished her sentence.

Esme waited for the next question with trepidation; she assumed it would be like her girlfriends' questions – 'How did you miss the signs?', 'Can't you ignore the other women? He's coming home to you after all' or the one that cut her to the bone, 'If you loved him, how could you divorce him?' All of those questions put the blame for the divorce directly on her shoulders. While divorce was becoming common in the last few decades, it still held an implication for women that they had been a 'bad wife'. A shared fallacy of 'the divorced woman' was that they were unable to keep their man or even worse, unable to please him, which resulted in straying. The blame almost always fell on the woman – that attitude carried over even within her own group of close-knit friends. In a way, the physical distance of her move to Richmond was welcome as it put a space between her and those who looked down on her for her independence in becoming a single mother without a 'good cause', such as abuse. The thought that her friends would only find divorce acceptable if Harland was beating her hurt more than she'd anticipated. It would take time to forgive their ignorance if she was able to.

When the words penetrated past her morose thoughts, the gentleness startled her. "Did he ever really love you?"

"I think he loved what he believed he could get _from_ me. I don't think it was just the position of Knight, but the prestige of being part of the Triad's inner circle as well as marrying someone he considered to be more attractive than he was." Mac smirked at that. "Of course, over the years, he met quite a few more attractive women. Harland cheated on me throughout our marriage. I stayed with him for Joshua's sake and I pretended that I didn't see the women, thinking it was a rough patch that we could piece together. I certainly couldn't leave him after my father passed; I would have had nothing. So, when Harland lost his job, I stepped up to the plate and decided to start my business. I thought that if he saw me succeed, that he'd be proud of me. But, it made things worse. My mother thinks it emasculated him. He stopped hiding his indiscretions from our son and I didn't want Joshua to think it was acceptable to treat his future wife that way. It was setting a bad example. So, I decided to end it as soon as I was finally secure enough both financially and emotionally to leave him."

Mac wiped his lips with a napkin, finishing his meal. "I don't wish to be indelicate, but if he was – stepping out on you with multiple women, you should probably get tested for sexually transmitted diseases. There has been talk of a new opportunistic disease appearing in New York this year – mostly in men but it's been known to spread to women during sexual activity. It seems to be attacking the immune system. It doesn't hurt to get a blood test to make sure that you're alright."

She nodded gravely, sipping at her broth. "I had been worried about it – one of my friends acquired syphilis from her husband's cheating – so, I asked my doctor to test me for it. I was clean for the most familiar ailments. Thank the Goddess. I haven't heard about any opportunistic disease – so I thank you for the warning."

"Sorry – occupational habit." Mac laughed, blushing. He sat back in his chair, looking towards the sky as the colors shifted into purple hues as the sun set slowly.

Mirroring him, she continued pouring her heart out, "I haven't really spoken to anyone about this other than my mother and a couple of friends. You're a great person to talk to. It's been _nice_ having you here. I haven't had the opportunity to make new friends after the move – I've been so busy that I didn't have much time to socialize. My mother would say something profound about how this infection was my body's way of getting me to slow down."

"I like your mother – Jocelyn is a hoot."

He grinned from ear-to-ear, his words not an exaggeration meant to butter her up, then. Esme's eyes widened in surprise. "When did you speak to my mother?"

"She called while you were sleeping to speak to Joshua as well as check up on you. Joshua mentioned I was staying with you for a few days and she _suggested_ we speak. Joshua handed me the phone. She's funny and I could tell she loves you deeply. She made me promise that I'd look after you and Joshua while I was here."

Smiling, she felt her mother's love from afar and it filled her heart with warmth. "That sounds like my mother. You know that you don't need to do that right? If you'd prefer to head out or go golfing, you don't need to stay here for me."

"Everyone needs help sometimes. I know that better than most. Sometimes, you just have to let your walls down and allow others to help you when you need it. It doesn't make you weak, it opens the door to a greater love of humanity."

Esme had shown trust in telling Dr. Ames her life story. She didn't want that trust to become tarnished by her own insecurities. It was time for a change in perspective and Mac seemed unique in his ability to empathize and comfort her. She wanted to see if he would return the favor of telling her _his_ story. "You allowed someone to help you?"

Mac nodded, then pulled his chair away from the table. "Why don't we head inside? It's starting to get dark out. It's time for your medication and I can tell that the pain is ramping back up. How about we both wash up, I light up the fireplace, brew a pot of tea, and we relax on the couch to talk? It's a bit of a long story…" He stood up and held his hand out to her to help her up, ignoring the slight tingle of desire he felt towards her – reminding himself she was his patient.

* * *

The fire in the wood-burning fireplace was crackling, the patio cleaned up from their dinner, dishes stacked to dry and now, he was looking through the cabinet Esme directed him that held various teas while she pulled out the teapot set. Her collection was extensive and if his guess was right, homemade. She had floral teas that he hadn't heard of, such as violet and dandelion along with the more classic flavors that he was familiar with. He spotted chamomile mixed with dried lavender that sounded like a good caffeine-free nighttime option and pulled the jar out. In doing so, he nearly knocked over a smaller container of well-used tea labeled St. John's Wort. He caught it before it shattered on the counter. "Is this for you?" The doctor worriedly asked holding up the jar. He knew the herb was considered a poor-mans mood stabilizer among the medical community – to be used only for short term depression. It was known to affect the effectiveness of other prescription medications as well as potentially cause other serious side effects.

Esme looked over his shoulder at the label on the jar, shaking her head, "No – I made it for Joshua. I was hoping that it would give him a boost – at least until he settled in, but it didn't work. He stopped drinking it after a few weeks."

"There are times I've noticed that he seems depressed in the short time we've spent together, but he's also a 13-year old boy so mood swings are somewhat normal at his age. He seems to snap out of it when you change the subject…" Mac gently states.

"I imagine that you've figured out that most of the depression stems from his father and Joshua's desire to be accepted by him. I'm also not sure his friend – Ian, is good for him. It could be just that old phrase, 'boys being boys', but I don't like the way they fight. They tear each other down instead of lift each other up – as friends should."

Hesitatingly, Mac suggests, "if you think it would be useful, I'd be happy to contact my colleagues in Richmond to see if they can recommend a good child psychologist for Joshua to speak with." Offering to call a psychologist was usually met with one of two reactions: one is anger and the other shame. There was too much of a stigma associated with mental health. To the neurosurgeon, keeping the mind healthy went beyond just medications and surgery; it was where the soul resided. It was important to keep the spirit healthy as well.

Her reaction was unexpected as she laughed happily, making fun of him. "I think I've figured you out, Dr. Mackland Ames. You want to fix things – and you love helping people. That's your purpose – why you get up in the morning. I do appreciate the sentiment, but you don't need to fix my life. That's my job as a mother." The last part had a bite to it, a bit defensive. She filled the pot with water from the sink, then put it on the burner to let it boil.

Mac filled the infuser with the loose-leaf tea before he put the jar back in the cabinet, stepping back. He was starting to fall into her life too deep, too quickly. It had only been a day. She was right about his drive to help people, but it was always tempered with logic. Esme seemed unique in her ability to render him emotional. They connected in a way he never had previously with a woman. He wasn't a saint, nor celibate by any means. The women he had relationships with liked playing games – and being with them always felt like a conquest. Sometimes, he won, and other times, he lost, but he was always satisfied. He never really had a female friend; it usually wasn't possible - his girlfriends wouldn't allow another woman in his life. They were usually as controlling and jealous as he had been about them spending time with male friends. It left him with no _true_ friendships as neither of them were willing to share the attention. How self-centered he had been… "Yes, that's an accurate assessment. I will say that it's a _new_ purpose for me. Up until recently, I've been told that I was an egotistical asshole." It was said deadpan, making her laugh.

Tilting her head, she looked into his brown eyes, "I can't imagine you behaving that way." She dropped the stainless-steel tea infuser into the boiling kettle then pulled out two glass mugs from the rack above the sink. "Did something happen to change so significantly?" Once the tea was steeped, she poured it into the two cups passing him the first one before serving herself.

He gentile-like held out his arm for her to take as they shuffled into the living room each holding a cup of hot tea, her body tense and stiff with break-through pain that the medication wasn't strong enough to squash. He helped her settle on the couch and handed her the blanket that was draped over the back of one of the chairs. Happily, he noted the hot water bottle being put to good use as she settled it against her pelvis. It was a good purchase. Waiting for her to get comfortable, he sat across from her taking a long sip of the warm drink as he put his thoughts in order. He didn't like thinking about the man he used to be, ashamed of himself, yet reassured in the knowledge that the hardship he suffered improved his outlook.

Taking another sip, he stared into the flames relaxing his body as he opened to her. The things he was about to say, he'd only spoken of to the two most trusted people in his life: his father, who'd stayed with him when no one else had, and Jim Murphy. This confession and he would not delude himself into thinking it was anything but, would be the first time he'd revealed his authentic self to a woman.

"When we spoke earlier, you asked me if I had ever accepted help from a stranger. The answer is 'yes, I have.' I accepted help from not just one person, but an entire community. I would love to be able to tell you that I had a spiritual awaking or decided to change for a high purpose, but that would be a lie. The change in my life was a result of a devastating head injury caused by a car accident a couple of years ago. To say that I should have died is an understatement; the best-case scenario had been life in a vegetative state or needing so much care that I would need to be institutionalized." She gasped in sympathy but didn't interrupt. "Prior to the accident, I had been a rich, ego-fueled workaholic with a large, privileged chip on his shoulder. My relationships had been superficial, as I never had the time outside of work to form a deep bond. Most of my friends were like-minded and we socialized to one-up each other. I spent money like water – but didn't respect the life my father had worked to provide for me. I'm ashamed to say that I used him; I'd found ways of making him feel guilty and manipulated him to achieve my own goals." He stopped to look at Esme, eyes shining with unshed tears, "I was _exactly_ like your ex-husband. I exploited people to help me get ahead and provide me the power/prestige I felt I was owed."

He took in several breaths, wiping at his eyes until he could continue. "The accident put me in a coma for three months and when I woke up – I found that I lost everything but my soul. Esme, I couldn't walk nor speak, and certainly couldn't work. Being a neurosurgeon had been part of my identity, losing that work was a shattering blow to my self-esteem. There were days that I wished I had died, I felt so alone." He swallowed at the lump in his throat, "Since I didn't spend time forming any friendships, I discovered that the people I'd surrounded myself with abandoned me when I _really_ needed them. Only one person had been in that hospital room when I finally woke – my father. The person I had treated like shit was the only person from my old life who stood by me throughout my recovery. My old man fought with me every step of the way – practically bullying me into getting better. He refused to let me fall into despair or continue having a victim-like mentality."

Staring at Esme, he could see her eyes were glistening in empathy, not a pitying look. "My father _forced_ me to accept help – from everyone who offered it to me. When I couldn't speak, he spoke for me; many times, saying the things that I wasn't capable of expressing, such as gratitude. At first, I felt nothing but rage in my circumstances, but there's something about having your life fall apart so completely that it becomes a rebirth. It took me many months for my attitude to change, lots of therapy – in _all_ forms – but I got there. Hell, it took me a full year to gain enough strength to walk properly. Suddenly, I started seeing the people who I had been abusing with my fury become my lifeblood. Instead of treating them like they were preventing me from returning to my old life, I started treating them like the treasures they were. It takes a special group of people to continue to help someone who refuses compliance and treats others with disdain. Once, I had considered their roles to be insignificant compared to my lofty standards. Suddenly, my eyes were opened – both spiritually and psychically. I started seeing what motivated them and it wasn't monetary gain – their hearts were full of love. I stopped fighting to get back what I lost and focused on becoming someone that _they_ would be friends with and look up to. I wanted to surround myself in love instead of egotistical falsities. They not only taught me how to walk and speak again, but they taught me how to live a life with purpose."

"I am sorry that you had been in so much pain, Mackland, but I'm grateful for the man you've become. For what it's worth, I _like_ you."

"And I like you too, Esme. I _think_ you already know that. If things were different -" Mac let the sentence trail off. There was no point in wishing for things that couldn't be.

Uncomfortably, Esme mentioned, "I haven't been with anyone outside of Harland, he was my first love; I'm just not sure…"

Looking into her eyes, Mackland spoke earnestly, "Esme, I _don't_ think it's a good time for us to start anything. Never mind the fact that it would be immoral since I'm acting as your Doctor right now – you need time to heal from the hardships you faced. Harland's cruelties weren't trivial hits to your self-esteem; I can tell it's still disturbing you. I've noticed that there are moments where both you and your son fear me; I understand that it's not personal, but a result of the evils you've experienced. It'll take time to establish that level of trust which I'm not sure either of us has right now. We _both_ know that Joshua is going to need your full attention. He made me promise to watch over you without asking for _anything_ in return. He doesn't deserve his trust to be sullied the moment he's out of the room. There are too many other men in his life manipulating him. I won't be one of them again. I won't _be_ that man again."

She gave him a smile, "Does that mean we can't be friends? Because I could use a friend who makes me feel safe right now." Knowing that he could have taken advantage of her in her weakness, yet choosing not to, revealed his strength of character. He was right about her state of mind and the fears she felt after the divorce, but left out the fact that she also didn't think _he_ was ready for anything outside of close friendship. He was still piecing together his life to create something new. It was incredible how far he'd come in a little more than a year out of the hospital… but she knew he had miles to go.

"I'd like to be your friend."

"Alright then, we're agreed. Friends forever." She gave a smirk, knowing it sounded teeny-bopper as she leaned forward and held out her pink finger to him.

He laughed heartily, wrapping his own pinky around hers – full of mirth. "Friends forever."


End file.
